LIBRAK  t 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


9 


i, 


' 


THE    CANNONADE. 


BY 


AUTHOR  OF  "OUR  MODERN  ATHENS;    OR  "WHO  IS   FIRST?"   "  GENITJS,  ITS  FATB," 

"  THE  WALK,"    "  HUMAN   NATURE  ;   OR  THE  HEART  UNVEILED," 

"BOSTON   BEAUX  AND   BELLES,"   "HARRY 

LEROY  }   OR  THE   FATALITY  OF 

CRIME,"  ETC.  ETC. 


/*v. . 


'  As  't  is  a  greater  mystery  in  the  art 
Of  painting  to  foreshorten  any  part, 
Than  draw  it  out,  so  't  is  in  books  the  chief 
Of  all  perfections  to  be  plain  and  brief." 

BUTLER. 


BOSTON: 

A.    WILLIAMS    &    COMPANY, 

100  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

1861. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1861,  by 

W.     A.     CLARK, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


DEDICATION. 


To  those  who  can  appreciate  truthful  sentiments,  though  not  clothed  in  the 
richest  garb  of  poesy,  — who  can  appreciate  an  honest  satire,  though  not  char 
acterized  with  the  genius  of  a  Horace  or  a  Juvenal,  a  Pope  or  Byron,  —  who  do 
not  think  one  should  not  write  because  he  can  say  nothing  better  or  so  well  as 
has  been  already  said,  —  we  dedicate  "The  Cannonade  ;"  and  ask  that  it  may 
be  criticised,  not  as  poetry,  but  as  pungent  rhyme,  written  from  an  impulse  to 
record,  in  plain  English,  some  plain  and  painful  truths,  which  are  not  often 
spoken,  though  constantly  felt. 

It  is,  perhaps,  unwise  to  speak  the  truth  at  all ;  but  there  is,  nevertheless,  a 
satisfaction,  once  in  a  while,  in  the  utterance  of  that  which  lays  heavy  at  the 
soul,  and  struggles  to  be  heard,  even  though  it  awakes  no  echo.  He  who  looks 
at  the  fearful  errors  of  man,  and  does  not  speak  his  shame  and  sorrow  that  such 
is  life  (whether  he  speaks  in  vain  or  not),  hath  the  spirit  of  a  coward,  and  the 
policy  of  a  slave. 


THE  best  verse  most  nearly  resembles  the  best  prose,  in  the  plainness  of  the 
words  employed,  the  natural  construction  of  the  sentences,  and  the  easy  intel 
ligence  of  the  whole,  where  nothing  is  wanting,  nothing  superfluous,  nothing  out 
of  place,  out  of  season,  or  out  of  proportion  5  in  short,  where  nothing  is  singular 
for  the  sake  of  singularity,  or  out  of  the  ordinary  course,  except  for  extraordi 
nary  purposes.  JAMES  MONTGOMERY. 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  no  easy  task  to  write  a  good  satire;  es 
pecially  in  these  days  of  excessive  culture,  when 
every  one  is  a  critic  and  deems  him,  or,  herself,  com 
petent  to  make,  or,  unmake  an  author.  We  publish 
"  The  Cannonade "  with  the  most  vivid  conscious 
ness  of  this  alarming  fact ;  and  while  we  have  some 
little  hope  of  finding  favor,  we  are  not  unmindful 
of  neglect.  So  much  has  been  printed  of  superior 
verse,  and  is  so  fresh  in  the  minds  of  readers,  that 
none  stand  much  chance  of  encouragement  who  can 
not  write  certainly  as  well,  if  not  much  better,  than 
has  been  done  already.  To  write  as  well  as  has  been 
written  is  to  possess  the  highest  order  of  genius  ;  to 
write  better  is  to  be  veritably  a  god  I  Now,  we  make 
1* 


VI  PREFACE. 

no  claim  to  the  highest  order  of  genius,  neither  are 
we  a  god  ;  still,  we  have  dared  publish  "  The  Cannon 
ade,"  which,  though  it  deals  roughly  with  folly,  was 
conceived  in  a  generous  spirit,  and  with  a  view  to 
aid  the  truth.  We  have  no  disposition  to  underrate 
the  fine  qualities  of  the  soul ;  on  the  contrary,  we 
are  somewhat  prone  by  nature  to  over-estimate  the 
worth  of  man  ;  and  when  we  represent  him  truly,  we 
do  so  with  a  sense  of  sorrow  not  easily  expressed. 

We  know  that  the  Christian  religion  gives  us  the 
most  lofty  views  of  the  dignity  of  man.  We  know 
that  all  benevolent  and  high-minded  philosophy 
points  to  man  as  little  less  than  God  himself.  But 
facts  bearing  upon  him  directly,  as  he  is  found  to 
conduct  himself  towards  society  and  his  own  kith 
and  kin,  —  even  those  who  are  of  his  own  substance, 
—  tell  against  his  boasted  nobility  of  nature  with 
astounding  potency.  But  for  the  law  of  man,  un 
equal  as  it  is  in  its  operation,  and  defective  as  it  is 
in  its  ethics,  what  would  become  of  the  social  sys 
tem? —  how  would  that  "nobility  of  sentiment" 
display  itself  in  his  concerns,  —  his  dealings  with 


PREFACE?.  VH 

his  neighbors  ?  Let  those  answer  whose  hearts 
are  but  the  records  of  his  infamy  and  damning  cun 
ning!  Let  those  answer  who  know  that  there  is 
"none  that  doeth  good,  no  not  one  ;" —  who  feel 
that  there  is  a  terrific  curse  resting  upon  the 
race,  which  we  do  not  appear  ardently  disposed 
to  assuage.  Our  churches,  our  entire  system  of 
civilization,  are  an  unmitigated  falsehood  !  Much 
of  our  knowledge  tends  to  weaken  the  brain  for 
natural  and  remunerating  pursuits  ;  and  vast  num 
bers,  through  their  education  alone,  are  carried  into 
the  study,  where  their  lives  are  wasted  in  weak, 
worthless,  and  disgusting  thought.  They  are  not 
men,  but  things,  —  mere  automatons !  whose  faces 
are  without  any  ray  of  hope  or  generosity,  and 
who  pass  for  scholars,  when  they  ought  to  be 
drummed  out  of  the  community  as  miserable  in 
competents  !  Let  all  men  pass  their  lives  in  some 
true,  genuine  service,  —  cultivate  that  knowledge 
which  disposes  them,  ay,  and  enables  them,  to  be 
charitable  towards  the  really  unfortunate  of  the 
world,  and  mindful  of  the  aspirations  and  hopes  of 


VIH  PREFACE. 

those  coming  forward  in  life.  Let  such  be  the  drift 
of  our  educational  system,  and  we  shall  find  among 
men  more  harmony,  and,  let  us  presume  to  add, 
more  conscience!  We  desire  that  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  society  there  shall  be  a  just 
balance  of  merit,  and  a  fellow-feeling  that  shall 
seek  out  opportunities  to  enact  the  good  Sama 
ritan  ! 

This  existence  is  crowded  with  men  and  women 
of  keen  sensibilities,  and  of  delicately-organized  in 
tellects,  highly  sympathetic  and  spiritual,  who, 
whilst  they  are  much  in  need  of  encouragement 
from  those  who  can  understand  their  needs  and 
comprehend  their  scope  of  mentality,  are  too  re 
served  in  their  dispositions,  and  too  spirited  to  go 
in  quest  of  what  they  feel  should  come  to  them  — 
the  appreciative  sympathy  of  their  fellow-men ! 
But,  alas  !  who  that  has  a  soul  to  suffer  from  a 
grasping  and  expansive  conception  and  understand 
ing  of  things,  does  not  well  know,  how  productive 
this  life  is  of  wretchedness  to  all  true  genius,  when 
fated  to  require  the  sustaining  arm  of  talent  —  who 


PREFACE.  IX 

does  not  know  that  there  is  something  more  than 
cant  in  the  remark,  that  a  mind  of  deep  and  earnest 
abstraction,  if  in  need  of  human  charities,  though  it 
gets  bread,  yet  it  also  gets  that  stone  of  indiffer 
ence  which  is  even  more  unendurable  than  no  bread 
at  all. 

When  mankind  shall  come  to  be  just  towards  its 
fellows,  who  most  require  the  exercise  on  its  part 
of  a  high  manhood,  then  will  begin  the  regeneration 
of  the  world !  The  great  mass  of  the  suffering  in 
life  is  with  those  beings  of  a  delicately  organized 
mind,  which  requires  the  purest  and  most  intellectual 
sympathy  in  its  distresses.  With  these  there  is 
intense  suffering,  against  very  little  adequate  relief; 
and  it  is  to  the  brutality,  the  gross  sensualism  of 
mankind,  that  we  attribute  this  most  painful  fact. 
God  grant  that  there  may  come  about,  at  no  very 
distant  day,  the  love  of  true  nobility  in  the  heart  of 
men,  that  shall  outwork  itself  in  noble  deeds  in  all 
directions,  and  that  no  longer  shall  this  nobility  of 
his  nature  be  a  mere  boast,  but  an  imposing  actu 
ality  ! 


X  PREFACE. 

Our  hope  of  this  is  strong;  for  we  cannot  believe 
that  our  heavenly  father  will  forever  continue  this 
life  as  it  is, — a  dreary  pilgrimage,  and  a  bleak 
desert  to  the  most  gifted  of  his  creatures  ;  for  it  is, 
indeed,  the  gifted,  those  who  think  and  feel  the 
deepest  and  most  continuously,  who  are  oftenest  in 
tears!  —  a  weakness  to  the  gross  and  sensual,  but, 
to  the  intuitive  and  intellectual,  the  strength  of  un 
relenting  and  ever-living  woe !  Who,  possessing 
an  exalted  soul,  that  delights  in  the  beautiful  and 
true,  can  look  at  and  realize  the  conditions  of  life, 
without  an  overwhelming  sorrow?  We  may  ridi 
cule  and  laugh  at  melancJwty  as  much  as  we  please; 
we  may  charge  the  sad  countenance  with  sin  in  as 
much  as  it  lacks  cheerfulness  ;  but  this  ridicule  and 
this  laughter  does  not  alter  the  fact,  that  few  per 
sons  having  earnest,  curious  souls,  can  be  otherwise 
than  melancholy  at  the  damning  deeds  of  men  in 
every  age  and  in  every  clime  throughout  this  blood- 
eoaked  globe.  Nor  can  they  be  otherwise  than 
melancholy  if  they  reflect  how  unreliable  are  the 
warmest  professions  of  friendship,  and  how  com- 


PREFACE.  XI 

pletely  one  is  thrown  back  upon  himself,  if  he 
would  not  become  entangled  in  the  falsehoods  of 
others.  We  love  a  cheerful  face,  but  when  we  ever 
see  it  so,  we  know  how  much  it  has  yet  to  learn, 
and  how  fearful  that  knowledge !  if  well  digested, 
and  thoroughly  realized  ;  for  unfeigned  cheerfulness 
cannot  be  the  constant  companion  of  that  soul  which 
has  sounded  the  depths  of  knowledge,  and  has 
taken  in  the  fulness  of  its  sad  fascinations. 

Mankind  are  earnest  after  lore,  thinking  there 
by  to  attain  through  it  to  happiness ;  yet,  who 
that  has  labored  faithfully  in  pursuit  of  truth,  cannot 
understand  most  clearly  that  appalling  confession 
of  the  great  Goethe,  who,  next  to  Shakspeare,  ranks 
the  most  exalted  soul  of  modern  Europe !  Says 
that  noble  intellect,  in  its  old  age,  "They  have 
called  me  a  child  of  fortune,  nor  have  I  any  wish  to 
complain  of  the  course  of  my  life ;  yet,  it  has  been 
nothing  but  labor  and  sorrow  ;  and  I  may  truly  say 
that,  in  seventy-five  years,  I  have  not  had/bwr  weeks 
of  true  comfort.  It  was  the  constant  rolling  of  a 
stone,  always  to  be  lifted  anew." 


XII  P  B  E  P  A  C  E . 

Here  is  the  testimony  of  Goethe  as  to  the  hap 
piness  which  knowledge  is  capable  of  securing ;  and, 
yet,  we  would  not  discourage  any  one  from  its  pur 
suit,  the  activity  of  whose  mind  craves  to  know} 
for  it  is  absolutely  essential  that  such  persons 
should  have  all  the  light  which  learning  can  bestow  ; 
since  they  aspire  to  lead,  and  those  who  lead  should 
be  learned !  The  idea  we  would  convey  is  this  : 
Where  it  is  not  the  duty  of  persons  to  be  plodders  in 
learning,  they  are  far  happier  without  any  such  an 
ambition ;  for  if  they  have  good  talents  for  the 
active,  light  pursuits  of  men,  they  will  be  likely  to 
accomplish  as  much,  if  not  more  good,  than  through 
mere  scholarship.  A  thorough  acquaintance  with  lite 
rature —  what  has  been  taught  and  written  out  by 
man,  is  the  sole  business,  properly  speaking,  of  a  long 
life-time  ;  and  if  a  person  is  in  active  life,  he  cannot 
accomplish  much  in  the  closet,  without  weakening 
him  as  a  man  of  business.  This  we  assert  to  be  the 
rule ;  to  which  the  exceptions  are  few.  In  our 
judgment  they  who  would  be  scholars  should  keep 
strictly  within  scholarship  ;  and  they  who  would  be 


PREFACE.  HE 

thorough  business  men,  should  leave  learning  to 
those  who  make  it  a  profession ;  bearing  in  mind 
that  they,  as  a  class,  are  the  least  to  be  envied  in  the 
world  ;  having  sorrows  and  infirmities,  such  as  no 
other  laborers  have  any  approach  to,  and  but  im 
perfectly  understand. 


THE    CANNONADE. 


Pause  from  your  grief,  and  with  impartial  eyes, 
Survey  the  daring  crimes  which  round  you  rise j 
Tour  injuries  then  will  scarce  deserve  a  name, 
And  your  false  friend  be  half  absolved  from  blame  I 
JUVENAL. 

Descend  from  heaven,  Queen  Calliope,  and  come  sing  with  your  pipe  a  length 
ened  strain ;  or,  if  you  had  now  rather,  with  your  clear  voice,  or  on  the  harp  or 
luteofPAoB&u*.  HORACE. 

Proceed,  my  son !  this  youthful  shame  expell  j 
An  honest  business  never  blush  to  tell. 

ODYSST. 


OUR  country  !  teeming  with  the  gifts  of  God, 
'Gainst  thee  we  lift  stern  satire's  iron  rod ; 
'Gainst  thee  aloud  we  raise  the  cry  of  shame ! 
'Gainst  thee  we  hurl  Nemitic  fire  and  flame. 


16  THE     CANNONADE. 


Reprove  we  will ;  we  shall  essay  to  write, 
To  scourge  the  vice  infectious  to  our  sight ; 
The  hated  vice  that  smiles  when  it  doth  stab, 
Belies  a  friend  and  plays  the  reckless  pad ; 
The  loathsome  vice  to  vaunting  power  allied, 
Alike  the  darling  of  the  weak  and  wise. 
Ye  gods  1  assist  us  and  we  will  assail, 
This  giant  fortress  and  'gainst  it  prevail ; 
On  its  high  walls  those  silence  who  proclaim, 
This  life  a  joke,  Jehovah  but  a  name.  * 
And  these  are  men  I  whose  callous  hearts  are  black, 
With  shameless  cunning  and  most  mean  attack ; 
Who  live  and  die  e'en  as  the  unschool'd  brute, 
This  world  alone  deemed  worthy  of  pursuit ; 
Whilst  on  their  lips  the  prayer  is  seen  to  play, 
The  knee  to  bend  as  custom  points  the  way. 


THE    CANNONADE.  It 

Ye  hypocrites  !  why,  why,  do  ye  express, 
What  burns  and  beats  not  in  your  heartless  breasts  f 
Why  fair  truth  pretend  why  bepraise  the  right, 
When  righteous  deeds  ye  rarely  do  requite  ? 


Our  native  land,  our  country !  oh,  how  great, 
The  gifts  assigned  thee  by  a  generous  fate  I 
And  wilt  thou  reckless  of  these  blessings  smile, 
On  subtle  foe  who  dost  thy  friend  beguile  ? 
Thy  friend  is  honor  and  thy  foe  is  crime, 
Which  plunges  headlong  down  the  tide  of  time ! 
Be  but  advised,take  counsel  of  thy  heart, 
And  thou  wilt  prosper  in  a  foremost  part ; 
Admiring  nations  moved  will  turn  to  thee, 

To  praise  thy  wisdom,  governed,  yet,  most  free. 
2* 


18  THE     CANNONADE. 

0,  if  thou  wouldst  fulfill  thy  mission  high, 

And  rear  thy  brow  in  grandeur  to  the  sky, 

With  care  provide  that  worth  its  crest  shall  raise, 

And  bear  away  each  freeman's  loudest  praise  ; 

Be  sure  each  post  a  faithful  man  denotes, 

Who  scorns  to  beg  or  purchase  freemen's  votes ; 

Be  sure  the  young  and  tender  trusting  mind, 

Be  not  debauch'd  in  summer's  early  time  ; 

When  soft,  impressible,  with  twofold  ease, 

It  copies  quickly  what  it  hears  and  sees  ; 

And  through  life's  labyrinth  drear  holds  fast  the  clew, 

Its  education  gives  if  false  or  true. 

Aye,  education  I  on  that  word  we  'd  dwell, 

Which  summons  man  to  heaven  or  to  hell ! 

We  'd  humbly  ask  if  the  hot  race  to  know, 

Works  not  an  injury  —  a  deadly  woe  I 


THE    CANNONADE.  19 

We  'd  humbly  ask  if  teaching  does  not  damn, 
As  well  as  make  the  smart  ambitious  man  ? 
We  'd  humbly  ask  if  each  and  every  brain, 
Should  seek  to  govern  and  despotic  reign  ? 
Yet  does  our  system  bid  the  fool  assume, 
To  play  the  leader  in  the  world  as  i'  school ; 
Each  boy  is  plum'd  for  an  audacious  flight, 
While  one  in  millions  gains  the  distant  height  I 
The  restless  crowd  by  pride  allur'd  contend,  — 
Debasing  manhood  to  ambitious  end  I 
They  onward  push  and  trample  weak  ones  down, 
To  serve  their  country  and  approve  their  town  ; 
The  private  station  is  too  mean  a  post, 
For  wise  and  learned  and  most  valliant  host  I 
Accustomed  to  believe  their  heads  most  keen, 
Their  right  is  power  as  the  throne  is  king's. 


20  THE    CANNONADE. 

They  look  their  metal  and  parade  their  strength  ; 
Display  their  courage  —  their  exceeding  length  ; 
And  thus  they  prance  like  some  well  rowelPd  steed, 
Anon  to  vanish  when  of  wind  relieved  : 
They  slink  away  asham'd  to  know  how  weak, 
Their  cherished  manhood  though  filled  full  of  Greek, 
And  classic  nonsense  they  cannot  convert, 
To  useful  end  to  clothe  them  with  a  shirt ! 
But  they  all  conscious  o'  error  of  their  youth, 
Gay  plum'd  to  scale  the  rugged  heights  of  truth, 
Disheartened  sink  to  their  eternal  rest, 
With  wasted  intellects  and  sorrowed  breast. 
Trained  to  excell  —  to  win  the  highest  prize, 
To  spurn  the  humble  medium  worth  despise  ; 
Mislead  t'  aspire  e'en  'bove  their  scope  of  mind, 
The  meaner  office  with  disdain  decline  — 


THE    CANNONADE.  21 

And  waste  their  lives  in  aiming  to  become, 
What  nature  barr'd  ere  yet  their  course  begun. 
And  this  it  is  of  education  born,  — 
The  lettered  fool  packed  full  of  high-bred  scorn  ; 
Who  walks  the  pavement  "  like  a  thing  of  life," 
With  air  defiant,  eager  for  the  strife, 
In  which  his  haughty  head  erect  and  proud, 
Must  bend  beneath  the  genius  of  the  crowd ; 
And  he  the  laughter  of  all  hardy  men, 
Deplores  the  teaching  which  assigned  this  end, 
His  country  damns  —  the  world's  advance  decries, 
Both  good  and  bad  with  equal  hate  despise. 
Had  he  been  sounded  with  impartial  wit, 
In  youth's  early  spring  —  put  to  labor  fit, 
He  might  have  borne  the  duties  of  a  man, 
And  held  an  humble  though  a  full  command  ; 


22  THE    CANNONADE. 

He  might  have  been  if  not  a  mincing  fool, 

An  object  worthy  of  a  freeman's  rule  ; 

He  might  have  lived  with  head  and  heart  unbent, 

Had  he  read  less  —  less  precious  time  misspent  — 

Less  pride  assum'd  false  learning  does  impose, 

To  plant  the  thistle  where  should  bloom  the  rose. 

Ah,  much  learning  I  how  we  loathe  thy  power, 

When  brains  are  wreck' d  to  fill  thy  little  hour ; 

When  manhood  left  untutored  by  thy  school, 

To  follow  instinct  would  escape  the  fool  1 

That  bitter  fate  which  waits  on  those  who  seek, 

To  "  drive  a  trade ?;  by  Latin  or  by  Greek. 

It  is  not  needful  that  the  general  mind, 

Should  know  of  Rome  its  progress  and  decline ; 

Should  be  enabled  to  recount  each  fact, 

That  marks  man's  progress  o'er  a  bloody  track : 


THE    CANNONADE.  23 

For  few  can  learn  of  his  inhuman  wrong, 
With  soul  untainted  with  heart  undeformed ; 
Which  drives  it  oft  unto  that  dismal  shore, 
Where  darkness  reigns,  hope  in  heaven  is  o'er ; 
Where  trusts  most  false  in  sad  opinions  wild, 
Alike  the  noble  and  the  base  beguile ; 
Where  Satan  revels  mocks  the  God  of  all, 
And  gluts  his  vengeance  for  his  signal  fall. 
Here  infidel' ty,ev'ry  senseless  thought, 
Because  ;t  is  bold  with  eager  grasp  is  caught ; 
And  human  souls  array'd  against  their  God, 
With  Satan  scoff  and  venerate  his  nod. 


Here  the  deep  scholar  seeking  after  truth, 
Has  drifted  helpless  as  some  vessel's  booth ; 


24  THE    CANNONADE. 

His  brain  confused  by  speculations' din, 
Perceiveth  not  that  virtue  is  not  sin  ; 
The  soaring  soul  doth  'pear  to  him  a  sun, 
Whose  course  imperial  ends  as  it  begun  : 
He  knows  not,  feels  not,  that  it  bears  a  seed, 
To  flower, hereafter, through  a  Saviour's  creed; 
He  knows  not,  feels  not,  that  our  souls  are  God, 
Our  breath  the  breath  he  gave  us  with  the  sod ; 
And  thus  in  doubt,  in  darkness,  and  despair, 
With  heavy  heart  life's  toilsome  burden  bear : 
Each  face  denotes  the  solemn  blight  within, 
The  sturdy  conflict  with  the  force  of  sin, 
Without  that  aid  which  Christian  faith  commands, 
The  arm  of  Jesus  and  his  angel  bands ! 
Immersed  in  night  they  grapple  with  the  fiend, 
Whose  pit  unfathomed  they  have  fallen  in ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  25 

And  there  like  snakes  enfolded  in  their  nest, 

They  seek  forever  but  they  find  no  rest ! 

The  God  of  love  whose  written  word  they  scorn'd, 

To  hopeless  fate  decrees  them  to  be  borne  I 

Dost  doubt  of  hell  ?  dost  doubt  o'  Satan's  pow'r  ? 

Go  probe  the  bosom V  yon  earnest  scholar;1 

Him  ask  if  books  with  all  their  vaunted  wit, 

Hath  made  him  happy  or  for  truth  more  fit ; 

Him  ask  if  full  as  is  his  mind  with  facts, 

There  is  not  something  which  his  knowledge  lacks, 

To  make  complete  the  chain  from  earth  to  God, 

To  bind  his  spirit  to  the  realms  above  ; 

Him  ask,  if,  when  he  has  essay'd  to  find, 

That  active  faith  by  which  men  see  though  blind, 

If  Satan  hath  not  bade  him  trust  his  wit, 

And  leave  to  fools  the  God  opposing  it ;  ^ 
8 


26  THE     CANNONADE. 

Him  ask  if  plain  the  voice  has  not  been  heard, 
To  scout  the  falsehood  of  Messiah's  word  ; 
Him  ask  if  when  descending  from  his  pride, 
To  kiss  the  cross  on  which  our  Saviour  died, 
He  has  not  heard  derisive  laughter's  peal, 
As  bent  with  sorrow  he  approach'd  to  kneel ; 
And  then  oh,  then,  how  hard  to  be  that  child, 
When  wisdom  false  in  scornful  passion  smil'd ; 
That  "  little  child  "  receiving  through  its  faith, 
Instruction  sweet  that  teacheth  life  is  death ! 
How  hard  the  struggle  and  how  fierce  the  doubts, 
How  mark'd  the  sneers,  and  oh !  how  loud  the  scouts, 
From  Satan's  ranks  that  truthful  mind  assail'd, 
To  thwart  its  peace  to  wreck  it  in  the  gale  ; 
And  when  it  wav'ring  turns  from  th'  Holy  Cross, 
How  Satan  gloats  to  know  a  soul  is  lost ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  2| 

How  his  proud  heart  fierce  eye  and  gnashing  teeth, 

In  consort  move  this  captive  one  to  greet ; 

For  he 's  a  scholar ;  Satan  loves  to  win, 

From  Christ  the  gifted  to  the  throne  of  sin  ; 

The  fool  and  wise  man  are  alike  his  prey  — 

Alike  with  cunning  does  he  these  waylay !  — 

As  they  uplift  'bove  nature's  primal  cause, 

Their  God  proclaim'd  "  supremest  nature's  laws  I " 

With  daring  will  denying  Heaven's  right, 

A  virgin's  womb  to  burden  with  a  knight, 

From  stain  exempt  of  Adam's  early  fall, 

Which  sin  hath  entered  in  the  life  of  all : 

A  knight  whose  mission  't  was  to  point  the  way, 

Where  truth  eternal  sports  in  glorious  day  ; 

A  knight  whose  sword  was  love  whose  word  was  peace, 

Whose  spotless  life  was  famed  through  Asia,  Greece  ; 


28  THE     CANNONADE. 

Who  claimed  from  God  to  be  with  whom  he  was, 
Ere  this  fair  world  had  felt  its  being's  cause. 


Oh,  daring  science  I  hast  thou  wandered  there, 
To  bring  us  back  the  tidings  of  despair  ; 
Oh,  learning  I  wilt  thou  still  presume  to  scan, 
With  reason's  eye  the  infinite  of  man  1 
Wilt  say  that  nature  is  and  more  is  not ; 
That  Sacred  Writ  is  poem  of  meanest  plot ; 
Wilt  turn  from  humble  faith  to  proud  disdain, 
Of  all  that 's  ofiered  in  the  Christian  name  ; 
Wilt  fondle  Satan  turn  to  shades  below, 
Where  darkness  mantles  most  terrific  woe ; 
Content  forever  from  thy  God  to  be, 
Estrang'd  on  angry,  darksome,  shoreless  sea  ? 


THE    CANNONADE.  29 

Ah,  break,  oh,  break  enchanting  Satan's  hold, 
And  back  return  where  milder  billows  roll ; 
Press  on  press  on  defy  the  furious  fiends, 
Who  course  the  ether  like  the  dashing  winds  ; 
Them  bid  avaunt !  and  by  the  ark  of  God, 
Defy  their  strength  and  take  thy  just  reward. 
How  dark  oh,  Satan  I  is  thy  subtle  soul, 
Ensnaring  worth,  the  youthful  and  the  old  I 
Alike  deceiving  all  who  've  not  the  force, 
To  hurl  thee  backward  from  sweet  virtue's  course ; 
With  smiles  beguiling  th'  gentle  maiden's  heart, 
While  pierc'd  a  father  with  thy  poisoned  dart, 
A  son  o'ercome,a  mother's  brain  unhing'd, 
That  thou  mayst  gather  what  thou  knowst  to  win. 
In  this  bless'd  land  by  genius  first  unveil'd, 

That  lofty  spirit  danger  ne'er  could  quail ; 
3* 


30  THE     CANNONADE. 

Whose  precient  eye  by  God's  dear  angel  op'd, 
Beheld  o'er  th'  wave  what  genius  dar'd  to  hope 
And  boldly  driving  through  the  heaving  main, 
By  dogged  courage  won  a  deathless  fame  — 
Oh  Satan  !  here  thy  dreaded  will 's  supreme, 
Thy  venom'd  spirit  no  deceptive  dream. 
How  didst  thou  pilfer  e'en  as  basest  thief, 
The  hard-earn'd  honors  of  that  noble  chief! 
Who  went  from  court  to  court  to  beg  the  aid, 
So  oft  denied  —  triumphantly  repaid  I 
The  brave  the  true  will  never  cease  to  bind, 
Columbus'  brow  with  honors  half  divine  ; 
And  yet  oh,  yet,  will  this  fair  land  anew, 
Be  christen'd  justly  as  in  honor  due  I 
No  page  in  hist'ry  bears  so  mark'd  a  shame, 
As  that  which  falsifies  Vespucci's  name ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  31 

And  gives  to  him  Columbus'  sacred  right, 

To  name  a  country  he  had  snatch'd  from  night. 

Posterity  should  not  a  knave  sustain, 

But  justice  honor  and  sweet  truth  proclaim  ; 

Satan  should  not  this  infamy  prolong, 

But  truth  should  tear  the  shameless  falsehood  down ; 

The  arch-fiend  hiss  and  fell  him  to  the  dust, 

Who  lives  and  prospers  on  sad  human  lust : 

Our  country  cradled  in  the  basest  lie, 

Must  yield  its  honor,  or,  this  wrong  deny. 


As  thro'  the  vistas  of  the  sad'ning  past, 
Our  pensive  mind  with  earnest  eye  is  cast  — 
The  sombre  tho'  splendid  vision  shakes  our  soul, 
In  fear  to  tV  earth  our  trembling  senses  roll. 


32  THE    CANNONADE. 

We  trace  life's  stream  from  Eden's  golden  spring, 

And  with  its  course  our  flight  excursive  wing ; 

We  think  of  man  when  with  his  God  he  walk'd, 

Who  bade  him  love  the  lessons  He  had  taught ; 

Who  bade  him  taste  not  of  that  gorgeous  fruit, 

Or  sink  to  level  of  the  meanest  brute  ; 

But  taste  he  would  when  fierce  the  bolt  of  sin, 

His  soul  assail'd, while  broad  Satanic  grin. 

He  fell  —  damnation  swept  the  weeping  earth, 

At  Stygian  Pluto's  dark  tartarian  birth; 

The  angels'  swords  were  drawn  against  his  hordes, 

Of  foul  delinquents  in  rebellion's  cause  ; 

The  cry  was  war  !  for  peace  was  foully  stabb'd, 

And  nature  blasted  by  a  tumult  sad. 

The  powers  o'  hell  in  serried  ranks  array'd, 

With  hate  possessed  'gainst  sweetest  love  essay'd ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  33 

And  casting  th'  scabbard  in  the  bloody  dust, 
With  frightful  oath  accept  the  awful  curse  ; 
Jehovah  jeer'd  for  gift  so  fair  as  man, 
To  people  hell  and  strengthen  its  command. 


Oh,  thus  was  poison'd  early  life's  pure  spring, 

And  thus  assail'd  was  virtue's  holy  dream ; 

So  doth  the  mind  o'erwhelm'd  by  Satan's  force, 

With  trembling  steps  pursue  its  craggy  course, 

In  fear  at  each  progression  of  a  fall, 

To  that  deep  vale  from  which  there's  no  recall  I 

'T  is  sad  't  is  pitiful  to  know  how  weak, 

Is  human  reason  to  the  truth  it  seeks  ; 

To  know  how  vain  how  fruitless  is  the  task, 

Of  curbing  error  now  as  in  the  past  I 


34  THE    CANNONADE. 

We  gaze  with  rapture  not  unmix' d  with  pain, 
At  man's  resistance  to  dark  falsehood's  reign; 
And  when  exhausted  by  most  careful  ken, 
Of  cent'ries  filled  with  hardy  valliant  men, 
For  virtue  earnest  and  the  rights  of  man, 
We  thrill  with  joy  at  sight  of  this  new  land  1 
For  here,  oh,  here  the  true  and  noble  mind, 
May  empire  found  which  force  and  love  combine  ; 
And  here  the  weak  may  find  an  honor'd  home, 
Where  thrones  and  monarchs  are  ignor'd,  unknown. 
From  Asia  and  from  Afric's  classic  shore, 
From  Europe,  India,  the  down-ridden  poor, 
Into  the  track  the  brave  Columbus  trod, 
Led  on  by  th'  mandate  of  eternal  God. 
They  come  high  mettled  boldly  scorning  death, 
In  search  of  freedom  and  of  tempting  wealth ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  35 

They  dash  at  Savage,  fell  his  noble  trees, 
That  years  unnumbered  dallied  in  the  breeze  ; 
They  seize  his  lands  debauch  his  dusky  fair, 
Defy  his  wrath  and  fill  with  hate  the  air! 
The  haughty  Savage  to  Manito  turns, 
While  his  swarthy  cheek  with  wild  passion  burns ; 
An  oath  of  vengeance  rends  the  rolling  sky, 
The  strangers''blood  shall  seal  his  perfidy. 
Thus  was  begun  upon  these  verdant  plains, 
The  hated  deeds  which  note  that  Satan  reigns : 
Ah,  here  !  in  this  fair  country  of  the  West, 
Was  truth  scar'd  early  at  crime's  stern  behest. 
Whilst  man  did  seek  a  shelter  from  the  law, 
Which  despots  framed  to  crush  defenseless  poor, 
He  'd  not  the  virtue  to  protect  a  race, 
Whose  land  he  enter'd  as  brave  honor'd  guest. 


36  THE    CANNONADE. 

Oh  man,  oh  man  !  what  what  hast  thou  to  boast, 
When  history's  page  thy  reckless  temper  notes  — 
Thy  shame  declares  thy  wayward  restless  zeal, 
And  all  thy  passions  crafty  doth  reveal. 
Go  hide  thy  head  and  doff  thy  lofty  mien  ; 
Put  sack-cloth  on,  in  ashes  be  thou  seen ; 
Since  in  the  annals  sombre  of  hoary  time, 
Thy  name 's  debased  by  every  fiendish  crime  ; 
The  student  staggers  as  he  wadeth  through, 
And  shrinks  appall'd  before  so  foul  a  view  I 
The  sword,  the  spear,  the  dagger,  and  the  dirk, 
Have  done  with  vigor  their  inhuman  work ; 
The  axe, the  gibbet,  poison,  and  the  stake, 
The  rack,hot  oil, the  flay, and  crushing  brake  ; 
Have  all  been  witness  that  the  human  heart, 
When  wrapp'd  in  error  plays  a  brutal  part. 1 


THE     CANNONADE.  31 

Oh  !  may  that  error  be  overcome  by  truth, 

And  man  in  goodness  have  eternal  youth ! 

All  age  is  but  th;  slow  passage  through  the  mind, 

Of  vicious  thoughts  to  vicious  deeds  inclined  ; 

But  purge  our  nature  of  its  fiendish  pride, 

Then  peace  and  plenty  with  our  world  will  'bide. 

Oh,  may  the  sorrows  which  attend  life's  hour, 

By  just  allotments  lose  their  deadly  pow'r  ; 

May  men  as  brothers  travel  to  the  grave, 

Sincere  in  friendships  as  in  deeds  most  brave ; 

Then  shall  the  earth  assume  its  early  song, 

And  ceaseless  music  lighten  life  along ; 

Then  labor,  capital, shall  unite  in  God, 

And  honest  workmen  get  their  due  reward. 

0,  golden  age  !  haste  haste  thy  sweet  return, 

Each  manly  bosom  for  thy  advent  burn  : 
4 


38  THE     CANNONADE. 

The  days  those  were  when  man  to  man  was  true, 
And  native  goodness  bore  its  native  hue ; 
The  days  those  were  when  nature  fresh  and  fair, 
Bedecked  her  brows  with  maiden's  winning  air  ; 
When  kindness  sparkl'd  in  the  mountain  stream, 
In  Cynthia's  bright  and  soft  and  silv'ry  beam, 
And  beasts  and  birds  and  ev'ry  creeping  thing, 
Did  wear  the  smile  of  sweet  perennial  spring : 
Few  tears  or  sighs  broke  on  the  gleeful,  air, 
But  all  was  softest  melody  and  fair. 
It  was  the  golden  age  and  0  !  once  more, 
Would  we  this  age  with  golden  virtues  store. 


Our  much-lov'd  country  I  may  thy  prosp'rous  shore, 
Be  unpollut'd  by  fratricidal  gore ; 


THE     CANNONADE. 

May  Heav'n  thy  free  and  fearless  soul  defend, 
And  ever  keep  thee  honor's  steadfast  friend. 
As  we  with  sober  care  scan  time's  advance, 
We  think  His  thine  at  kings  to  hurl  the  lance  ; 
To  bear  them  bleeding  from  their  hated  thrones, 
And  shake  all  rule  to  its  foundation  stones ; 
Which  wealth  assigns  a  too  exclusive  pow'r, 
And  bends  the  soul  to  want's  exacting  hour. 
Perdition  catch  those  miscreants  who  parade, 
Their  bloated  bodies  in  these  nations'  aid  ; 
Whose  airs  are  loaded  with  the  mournful  sighs, 
From  wither'd  lips  and  grief-encumber'd  eyes  I 
Perdition  catch  the  tricksters  keen  of  law, 
Whose  foul  existence  pois'nous  substance  pour, 
In  each  fair  channel  which  thro'  human  toil, 
Flows  on  life-giving  to  both  man  and  soil ; 


40  THE     CANNONADE. 

With  fruits  enrich'd  the  monied  knave  alone, 
With  care  possesses  to  engorge  "his  own." 
Shame,  shame !  oh,  thrice  repeated  shame  !  to  grasp, 
Earth's  common  bounties  for  the  human  ass. 
Can  empires  drunken  with  injustice  stand, 
Where  right  is  might  and  brutified  is  man ! 
Can  empires  putrid  with  infernal  woe, 
Escape  the  lightnings  of  oppression's  foe  — 
Those  fearful  bolts  from  freedom's  fir'ry  womb, 
Which  in  this  land  sprang  up  as  from  the  tomb  ? 
Can  empires  live  thus  stain'd  with  human  hate, 
And  hell's  apostles  e'er  be  deemed  great  ? 
No,  never !  if  the  massive  work  shall  stand, 
Which  consecrates, protects,  adorns  our  land  ; 
If  wisdom  wrapp'd  in  time's  augustest  robes, 
Can  dare  the  presence  of  its  wily  foes ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  41 

Can  dare  the  howling  of  a  wrathful  mob, 
Upheld  by  shameless  crafty  demagogue  — 
And  that  it  can,  aye,  dare  them  to  the  teeth, 
Our  hopes, our  love, our  manhood  truly  teach. 
Believe  we  will  despite  the  fearful  chance, 
That  uncurb'd  passions  may  our  nation  launch, 
Unto  that  ocean  o'  horrid  broil  and  blood, 
Whose  loathsome  waters  human  kindness  flood,  — - 
Believe  we  will  the  love  of  God  and  man, 
Will  keep  the  deck  and  hold  a  brave  command. 
0,  perish, perish, those  black  fiendish  hearts, 
Who'd  blot  from  life  this  gorgeous  type  of  arts,  — 
"Pis  not  inisnam'd  — our  Constitution  points, 
The  skillful  artist  throughout  all  its  joints  — 
And  science  I  where  and  when  has  she  prevailed, 

The  queenly  mistress  of  so  fierce  a  gale, 
4* 


42  THE     CANNONADE. 

As  swept  that  hall  where  mighty  souls  conferM, 

To  cherish  freedom  through  the  written  word  ; 

Where  when  has  science  ere  more  proudly  fac'd, 

The  gravest  questions  with  such  noble  grace  ? 

And  where  on  history's  page  are  laurels  won, 

So  fresh  and  fair  as  those  of  Washington  ? 

Awhile  we  pause  to  gaze  upon  this  man, 

Who  drew  his  sword  and  boldly  took  command ; 

Resolved  to  save  his  country  from  her  foes, 

Or  go  unconquer'd  to  the  grave's  repose  ; 

From  tyrants  free  who  'd  bind  with  fearful  chains, 

The  dashing  freemen  of  these  new  domains. 

All  shoeless  shirtless  starved  and  weary  worn, 

He  led  with  valor  his  small  army  on  ; 

His  form  erect  his  eye  as  calm  as  night, 

When  summer's  softness  blends  with  autumn  light ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  43 

His  soldiers'  cheeks  were  wan  and  discontent, 
Their  mut'rings  low  in  seething  passions  vent ; 
Their  cry  for  bread,  their  hard-earn'd  tardy  pay, 
Each  sun  returning  made  a  sadden'd  day ; 
Yet  Washington  inspired  with  firmest  trust, 
His  soldiers  cheer'd  who  bit  in  grief  the  dust ; 
His  soul  ennerv'd  with  more  than  human  zest, 
The  winter's  cold  and   Britain's  beast  to  breast ; 
His  spirit  fearless  was  not  born  to  fail ; 
His  brow  imperial  ne'er  was  known  to  quail ; 
In  God  his  trust  and  his  own  genius  grand  ; 
With  ragged  army  dauntless  was  his  stand ; 
The  foe  defied  and  challeng'd  to  advance ; 
His  men  were  freemen,  he  unaw'd  by  chance  I 
No  countiy  claims  no  history  relates, 
Defence  more  stubborn  than  our  gallant  states ; 


44  THE     CANNONADE. 

And  he  the  chieftain  of  that  hardy"  work, 
Endur'd  its  labors  all  unscar'd  unhurt ; 
Keliev'd  the  land  of  those  imbruted  lords, 
Whom  Yorktown  finished  if  not  Valley  Forge  ; 
Received  from  th'  nation  on  its  bended  knee, 
The  grateful  homage  of  a  people  free. 
Of  pride  uncumber'd  they  like  dirty  curs, 
Escap'd  our  shores  with  damaged  coat  and  spurs ; 
To  note  unto  their  gracious  boastful  king, 
"  Those  Yankees,  sire,  are  sure  in  war  to  win ; 
They  fight  unfed,  and  ne'er  are  known  to  sleep, 
They  shoot  with  care  and  with  a  frightful  sweep ; 
They  look  like  devils  and  they  live  like  dogs, 
And  ape  the  spirit  of  fierce  demi-gods  ! 
The  wretch  who  leads  them  spurning  thy  great  throne, 
Would  found  a  kingdom  governed  as  his  own  ; 


THECANNONADE.  45 

Defies  thy  laws  contemns  thy  hallow'd  right, 

On  treason  feasts  with  soundest  appetite. 

We  thought  this  man  to  vanquish  and  his  host, 

To  heav'n's  four  winds  but  dream'd  not  of  the  cost ; 

To  conquer,  secure  with  firmness  in  the  yoke, 

These  semi-brutes  thy  nation's  purse  had  broke ; 

They  will  be  free  and  with  the  tiger's  growl, 

They  sleep  on  arms  and  kiss  the  death-damp  ground ; 

The  wintry  blast,  the  blinding  flaky  snow, 

Their  brutal  tempers  cannot  turn  or  bow ; 

They  stand  amid  the  fears  of  their  dear  hopes, 

Like  marble  pillars  on  the  Grecian  coast ; 

Slow  circling  ages  have  not  yet  thrown  down, 

But  left  as  relics  of  fair  Greece's  renown  ; 

Where  blind  old  Homer  gently  seized  the  gods, 

And  rob'd  in  splendor  their  immortal  cause  ; 


46  THE     CANNONADE. 

To  sweet  religion  gave  its  earliest  song, 
ImpeaiTd  in  thought  —  imagination  1 " 


As  bending  o'er  the  flow'ry  streams  of  time, 
We  muse  in  wonder  at  Homeric  rhyme, 
That  flows  so  softly  o'er  its  mythic  bed, 
Our  heart  in  sadness  weeps  that  Greece  is  dead  1 
Fair  Greece,  "where  burning  Sappho  lov'd  and  sung/' 
And  man  in  art  the  noblest  trophies  won  ; 
Where  truest  genius  triumphed  in  its  work, 
And  fame  achieved  enduring  as  the  earth  I 
Hellas  I  on  thy  dear  breast  we  lay  our  head, 
And  moan  with  thee  so  much  of  grandeur  fled ; 
To  thee  our  panting  bosom  closely  press, 
To  new  life  warm 'd  by  thy  endear'd  caress  ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  47 

At  thy  rich  founts  we  've  drank  the  sparkling  stream, 

And  wildly  revel'd  in  pure  fancy's  dream  ; 

By  thy  grand  genius  sway'd  we  've  oft  become, 

By  self  forgot  and  mingled  with  that  sun, 

Of  gorgeous  thought  that  roll'd  thro7  darken'd  space, 

To  light  its  gloom  and  error's  past  efface : 

Yet  as  we  ponder  o'er  thy  page  sublime, 

The  tear  will  flow  the  heart  a  sadness  find ; 

Since  tainted  was  thy  splendid  classic  lore, 

By  that  false  pride  which  shun'd  the  virtuous  poor, 

And  left  to  cheerless  misery  and  death, 

Souls  warm'd  to  being  by  Jehovah's  breath. 

Socratic  teaching  just  could  not  inspire, 

In  pagan  heart  pure  virtue's  sweet  desire  ; 

Not  till  the  world  with  Plato's  dream  was  fill'd, 

Did  pagan  breast  with  holy  spirit  thrill ; 


48  THE     CANNONADE. 

He  sage  august !  the  promised  word  foresaw, 
And  spoke  of  Christ  e'er  yet  Christ's  word  was  law ; 
In  the  deep  centres  of  his  mighty  soul, 
Where  crystal  thoughts  in  silver  streamlets  roll, 
He  caught  from  heav'n  the  future's  footfall  light, 
Clear  day  beheld  from  out  the  murky  night ; 
With  unveil'd  eye  he  look'd  on  Jesus'  reign, 
Whose  spirit  pure  swept  mountain  and  the  plain  ; 
Who  gave  to  man  th'  assurance  from  his  God, 
That  death  was  life  and  pain  but  chaining  rod. 
He  spake  as  never  man  had  spoke  before, 
And  tho'  unlearn'd  abash'd  the  deep  in  lore ; 
Fulfilled  his  mission  with  deific  trust, 
And  laid  his  soul  unperjured  in  the  dust ; 
Proclaim'd  himself  to  be  'fore  Abr'am  was, 
And  stamp'd  with  Heaven  his  heroic  cause  ; 


T  H  E     C  A  N  N  0  N  A  D  E  .  49 

Ascended  to  the  Father  whence  he  came ; 
Left  life  and  peace  eternal  with  his  name.1 
Oh,  blessed  Jesus  !  they  whose  doubting  mind, 
Reject  thy  word  to  other  teachings  find, 
Lost  in  the  mazes  of  unbridled  thought, 
With  reason  shattered  and  by  demons  taught, 
Long  time  in  chaos  hopeless  fight  with  Hell, 
Till  back  to  thee  by  prayer  they  come  to  dwell. 
And  sweet!  oh  sweet !  that  long  relinquish'd  peace, 
Which  now  sustains  them  sorrow's  depths  decrease. 
Hard  by  thy  cross  their  humbled  senses  'bide, 
With  it  they  pass  contented  o'er  life's  tide  ; 
Whose  shores  deceptive  gather  on  their  slopes, 
The  noblest  hearts  despoil'd  their  fondest  hopes ; 
In  darkness  wrestling  with  their  being's  hate, 

Of  weary  life  the  sport  of  captious  fate : 
5 


50  THE     CANNONADE. 

Would  they  with  us  could  see  beyond  this  vale, 
Where  youth  and  age  in  common  accent  wail, 
Ambition's  fall  or  love's  delusive  dream, 
They  'd  take  with  us  sweet  faith's  unrippled  stream, 
And  bearing  calmly  th'  burden  of  the  cross, 
Defy  those  passions  that  them  once  did  toss  ; 
Which  chartless  souls  all  trembling  driveth  on, 
To  maniac  wildness  or  an  idiot's  tomb ! 
Great  God !  vouchsafe  this  holy  faith  to  all, 
Without  which  guide  the  loftiest  talents  fall ; 
Genius  that  seemeth  the  nearest  to  thee, 
By  faith  unhumbled  ne'er  from  pain  is  free  ; 
But  when  inspired  by  th'  Son's  most  holy  word, 
Its  work  doth  prosper,  that  from  crime  deters. 
Oh,  Father  I  grant  through  this  our  native  land, 
That  Christ  may  permeate  the  heart  of  man ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  61 

That  minds  defiant  leading  souls  astray, 

By  mad  philosophy's  uncertain  ray ; 

The  chambers  crowding  of  their  restless  thought, 

With  doctrines  false  from  each  dark  lib'ry  brought, — 

Oh,  grant  that  these  men  mad  of  varied  lore, 

May  not  abuse  this  fairest  virgin  shore  ; 

May  ply  their  talents  and  their  time  to  save, 

What  thou  in  mercy  t'  thy  crush'd  people  gave  : 

0,  grant  that  th'  school,  the  college,  and  the  priest, 

In  wisdom's  search  may  not  thro'  books  decease  ; 

0,  grant  that  reason  may  assert  its  sway, 

To  roll  majestic  each  dark  cloud  away ; 

That  rises  to  obscure  our  country's  fame, 

And  blot  with  death  her  yet  untarnish'd  name  I 

So  we  shall  onward  like  a  war-steed  tramp, 

With  Roman  valor  'gainst  foul  error's  camp  ! 


52  THE     CANNONADE. 

To  arms  inviting  this  most  vaunting  host, 

To  fell  them  earthward  scornful  of  their  boast. 

In  union  and  in  love  the  chance  is  ours, 

To  give  the  law  to  earth's  despotic  pow'rs ; 

In  union  and  in  love  the  mission  high, 

To  do  with  glory,  or  in  honor  die ! 

Oh,  Father !  once  again  we  humbly  plead, 

That  thou  mayst  guide  us  to  a  noble  meed ; 

And  as  Empire's  fair  star  in  th'  golden  west, 

Has  stayed  its  course  since  man  the  globe  invest ; 

With  favor  crown  e'en  in  eternal  fee, 

Columbus  gift  to  bondmen  and  the  free  ; 

This  land  so  fair  make  as  Eden's  plain, 

The  home  of  virtue  ere  temptation  came. 

0  here  let  Pilgrims  in  the  search  of  right, 

Of  footstep  cautious  find  perpetual  light ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  63 

From  ev'ry  quarter  of  the  pendant  globe, 

Let  honor  come  to  make  its  fix'd  abode. 

As  th'  Moslem  pass'd  to  Mecca's  holy  shrine, 

To  purge  his  conscience  thro'  "  MaVmet  divine  ; ?; 

Or,  as  the  Christians  in  that  middle  age, 

By  th'  hermit  rallied  dared  the  bold  crusade ; 

When  knight  and  lady  to  each  other  true, 

The  earth  enfill'd  with  valor's  hardiest  crew ; 

Whose  manhood  springing  from  so  sound  a  seed, 

Gave  man  those  sinews  which  mankind  has  freed ! 

Redeemed  with  stalwart  hand  and  valiant  sword, 

From  villain  bonds  these  chattels  of  the  lord  ; 

Who  claimed  as  masters  the  redundant  soil, 

The  poor  and  needy  of  their  freedom  spoiled  ; 

As  fruits  the  first,  their  daughters  took  to  bed, 

And  stole  the  treasure  of  their  maidenhead  : 
6* 


54  THE     CANNONADE. 

Whilst  thus  deflower'd  they  were  thrust  aside, 
To  dwell  with  those  who  sought  them  as  their  brides 
Oh,  damned  custom  !  oh,  infernal  brutes  ! 
Who  walk  as  man  but  with  a  satyr's  looks  ; 
Oh,  recreant  priests  !  who  gaz'd  upon  this  act, 
And  sanction'd  freely  such  a  crime  as  that  I 
Man  man,  oh,  what  is  thy  "  brave  godlike  soul," 
When  thus  besotted  thus  without  control ; 
Thy  boasted  virtue  as  innate  with  life, 
Since  priestly  guides  are  feeble  in  the  strife  ; 
And  fall  delinquent  like  the  sapless  leaves, 
When  stirr'd  by  th'  vigor  of  Autumnal  breeze,  — 
Virtue  innate  1  oh,  speak  ye  martyr'd  dead, 
Who  hath  by  scores  the  fires  of  vengeance  fed ! 
Oh  say  if  man  hath  any  right  to  claim, 
So  fair  a  title  for  his  brutal  name  ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  56 

Oh  say  if  th'  noblest  genius  earth  hath  known, 
Hath  not  disgraced  all  senates  as  the  throne : 
Behold  great  Julius  pass  the  Rubicon, 
To  stab  the  freedom  of  indignant  Rome ; 
The  avenger  mark  who  boldly  struck  him  down ; 
See  Antony  the  pleased  rabble  turn  ; 
From  Brutus'  cause  to  take  the  fi'ry  field  ; 
And  bare  their  bosoms  to  the  glittering  steel. 
Alexander  see  with  tV  world  depressed  in  chains, 
As  dog  decease  in  midst  his  vast  domains, 
Ere  yet  the  verdure  of  his  conquering  youth, 
Had  lost  its  freshness  tho'  debauched  its  truth. 
Behold  the  wisdom  of  the  Grecian  schools, 
Which  Athens  proud  with  iron  sceptre  rules, 
Decree  the  poison  for  the  greatest  sage, 
Whose  life  embrilliants  History's  darksome  page  I 


56  THE    CANNONADE. 

With  Gibbon  tread  thro'  that  immortal  vale, 
Of  rending  sorrows  falling  Rome  overcame  ; 
Dissect  with  him  those  sceptred  monsters  drunk, 
With  human  blood  in  gross  pollution  sunk  ; 
Constantine  note  ;  observe  the  subtle  art, 
With  which  he  won  to  Christ  the  pagan  heart : 
From  policy  alone  he  took  the  cross, 
And  bade  to  follow  his  most  heathen  host : 
So  thus  was  foul'd  the  highest  word  of  God, 
Which  led  the  way  to  Pope's  unhallow'd  rod  ; 
With  which  was  scourg'd  throughout  a  fearful  night, 
The  human  race  without  regard  to  right ; 
Whilst  th'  priests  immur'd  within  the  cloister's  walls, 
Securely  walk'd  these  sombre  scholastic  halls  ; 
Beneath  the  aegis  of  the  vicar  rogue, 
Who  Rome  allotted  his  august  abode. 


THE    CANNONADE.  57 

Oh,  justice  !  where  where  shall  we  turn  for  thee, 
When  thou  art  'prison'd  by  "  most  Holy  See," 
When  man  with  impious  boldness  dares  presume, 
To  speak  as  God  and  claim  despotic  rule. 


As  through  that  age  the  student's  eye  is  cast, 

•» 

How  happy  he  that  't  is  the  iron  past  I 

But  yet  the  fear  is  wakeful  that  again, 

May  backward  roll  the  dearest  hopes  of  men ; 

With  anxious  mind  we  quake  at  such  mischance, 

But  trust  in  God  to  keep  us  in  advance. 

Oh  innate  virtue  !  where  wast  thou  when  died, 

Charl'magne  the  great  whose  sons  his  land  divide  ; 

Say  where  wast  then  —  oh,  where  thy  power, 

To  guard  those  labors  of  the  Conqueror  ? 


58  THE     CANNONADE. 

How  fell  to  fragments  that  great  Western  band, 

Of  nations  gather'd  'neath  a  master  hand  ! 

And  pav'd  the  way  for  Carpet  to  secure, 

Ambition 's  wish  as  France  to  life  he  bore. 

Yet  in  his  line  oh  what  of  truth  appears, 

How  rare  the  smile  how  constant  flow  the  tears  ! 

Where  where  is  innate  virtue  ?  not  in  France, 

With  all  its  chivalry  and  gay  gallants. 

Louis  —  Napoleon  —  they  had  it  not, 

Though  great  their  genius  grand  their  kingly  lot. 

Napoleon  I  sweet  hours  we  Ve  liv'd  to  thee, 

In  wonder  wrapped  at  thy  august  degree  ; 

As  o'er  thy  pathway  we  enraptured  walk, 

To  thy  mark'd  deeds  do  turn  our  earnest  thought ; 

Their  form  colossal  more  than  fills  the  eye, 

Amazement  moves  us  ;  thee  would  deify : 


THECANNONADE.  59 

Thy  works  herculean  intimate  a  force, 

In  human  strength  that  is  not  —  7t  is  the  course, 

Of  super-mundane  forces  that  control, 

And  guides  the  wakeful  ever-soaring  soul : 

Thy  love  was  France  !  and  if  ambition  sway'd 

Thy  policy,  drew  genius  to  thy  aid, 

With  which  to  bend  to  thy  majestic  throne, 

A  Europe  rotten  to  its  carious  bone,  — 

;T  was  well  —  we  Applaud  the  stout  and  valliant  arm, 

That  smote  its  foes  triumphant  in  command ! 

All  Europe  moved  with  fiendish  hate  of  thee, 

Thy  ire  provoked  which  brought  her  to  thy  knee ; 

She  mock'd  thee  daily,  calPd  thee  parvenu, 

Thy  talents  ridiculed  in  her  reviews  ; 

Thee  goaded  on  to  drench  her  plains  in  blood  j 

Her  awe-struck  people  with  thy  armies  flood : 


60  THE     CANNONADE. 

They  as  a  mighty  car  of  lurid  flame, 

Her  fields  cours'd  thro'  and  smote  her  waving  grain  ; 

Her  bosom  charr'd  where  nestled  tender  hopes, 

Andsing'dher  kings,6eal'd  their  boisterous  throats  ; 

Hurled  from  their  seats  of  loud  complaining  trust; 

The  titled  minions  of  dear  noblesse  dust ; 

Of  coxcomb  manners  perch'd  in  places  high, 

Napoleon  mark'd  them  with  his  eagle  eye : 

Which  as  the  sun  sent  forth  its  dazzling  beams, 

O'er  mountains, lakes,  the  verdant  plains, and  streams  ; 

Encourag'd  merit  as  it  scorn' d  pretense, 

His  conquests  signalized  with  brilliant  sense. 

Oh,  mighty  man !  what  weighty  cares  were  thine, 

Before  which  fell  thy  noble  Josephine ;  — 

She  the  sweet  partner  of  thy  regal  bed, 

To  "  dear  France"  yields  the  rights  with  thee  she  wed; 


THE     CANNONADE.  61 

Like  Niobe  all  tears  she  leaves  thy  valliant  arms, 
That  thoumayst  gain  proud  Austria's  princess'charms: 
But  tho'  this  act  has  been  with  vileness  named, 
The  mind  that  knows  thee  loves  thee  still  the  same : 
It  was  to  France,ihy  dearest  France  alone, 
Thou  gav'st  thy  wife  as  needed  to  its  throne ! 
Thy  country  was  thy  trust ;  her  womb  opposed  ;  — 
In  duty  thou  'bove  love  connubial  rose  ; 
Without  an  heir  an  empire  was  thy  gift ! 
Thou  wouldst  retain  it  of  thine  arm  bereft ; 
Thy  genius  grand  its  splendor  had  achieved  ; 
So  should  thy  loins  be  faithful  to  thy  deed  : 
It  was  thy  view  of  what  for  France  was  best, 
Ambition  sway'd  and  glory  fired  thy  breast ! 
Sweet  Josephine  thou  never  lov'd  so  well, 

As  when  for  France  that  noble  woman  fell : 
6 


62  THE     CANNONADE, 

If  in  thine  eye  a  tear  was  known  to  rest, 

;T  was  when  she  left  thy  sad  impassion'd  breast ; 

;T  was  when  she  heart-pierc'd  like  a  stricken  deer, 

To  Malmaison  repaired  with  trickling  tear  : 

;T  was  then  thou  sought  her  with  thy  early  love, 

To  soothe  her  grief  thy  ardent  passion  prove : 

Still  would'st  thou  twine  around  her  gentle  soul, 

Which  clasp 'd  thee  fondly  when  thou  lost  thy  throne  : 

Thy  faults  were  few,  thy  virtues  how  sublime  I 

Thy  name  great  man  the  noblest  one  of  time : 

Alexander,  Caesar,  and  Charlemagne, 

On  history's  page  in  jewell'd  splendor  stand  ; 

< 
Yet  in  their  genius  tho'  combined  the  three, 

Napoleon  they  do  not  equal  thee  I 

Thine  was  a  soul  which  flash'd  incessant  heat ; 

With  equal  power  all  occasions  meet ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  63 

The  elements  fierce  leagu'd  with  treach'rous  man, 
Alone  could  wrest  the  rule  from  out  thy  hand ; 
These  and  foul  Britain  faithless  to  its  trust, 
Conspired  to  lay  thee  in  its  island  dust ; 
Enchain'd  tj  a  rock  where  each  resounding  wave, 
But  mark'd  thy  progress  to  the  welcom'd  grave : 
Bemoan'd  thy  death  sublime — thy  faded  hopes, 
And  hush'd  its  ocean  as  went  forth  thy  ghost, 
From  out  the  bondage  of  material  form, 
To  course  thro'  space  and  ride  the  reinless  storm. 
Oh,  shameless  nation  !  may  God's  lightning  dash, 
To  fragments  thee  —  thou  most  gigantic  trash  I 
May  Isle  and  people  from  the  earth  be  swept, 
For  that  injustice  myriad  hearts  have  wept ; 
For  that  base  usage  which  a  valiant  guest, 
Received  from  those  to  whom  he  bared  his  breast. 


64  THE     CANNONADE. 

Napoleon !  'tis  just  thy  bones  have  passed, 
From  HePna  to  the  bosom  of  thy  France  ; 
That  France  for  which  thou  thought  and  toilM  so  well, 
To  whom  thy  word  was  tow,  thy  name  a  spell ! 
When  dark  our  mind  with  life's  too  constant  cloud, 
We  think  of  thee  by  no  misfortune  bowed  ; 
Whom  sad  defeat  ne'er  coward'd  or  overcame, 
Nor  fear  could  shake  thy  proud  heroic  frame ; 
But  with  unflinching  eye  thy  hated  foe, 
Defiant  faced  nor  murraur'd  oft  thy  woe : 
Years  years  shall  roll  with  silent  pace  away, 
Ere  such  a  genius  shall  again  have  sway ! 
The  pilgrim,  sad,must  by  thy  ashes  stand, 
That  this  is  thee,fhou  once  stupendous  man  I 
Virtue,  innate  !  if  found  we  '11  find  it  here, 
Yet  what  in  him  doth  innate  truth  appear  ? 


THE     CANNONADE.  65 

Ne'er  was  the  human  form  more  like  a  god, 
Besotted  Europe  trembled  at  his  nod.1 


Our  country !  H  is  to  thee  our  muse  doth  sing, 
For  thee  she  plumes  her  yet  reluctant  wing ; 
And  if  discursive  she  strange  notes  acclaim, 
Forgive  the  license  and  withhold  the  blame : 
To  cannonade  thy  faults  she  has  essay'd, 
E'en  as  thy  virtues  she  delights  to  praise  : 
Here  on  thy  shores  are  gathered  every  race, 
To  thee  alike  an  honor  and  disgrace  I 
From  em'rald  Erin  comes  the  hardy  Celt  j 
He  7s  call'd  Sir  Pat  and  makes  his  presence  felt ; 
From  England,  Scotland,  and  gay  La  belle  France, 

In  smiling  swarms  they  rush  unheeding  chance : 
6* 


66  THE     CANNONADE. 

From  Germ 'ny,  Russia,  and  from  Egypt's  strand, 
They  come  most  hopeful  to  this  favor'd  land : 
Far  as  the  mind  can  reach  the  billows  roll, 
They  come  they  come  to  find  with  us  a  home  : 
We  bid  them  welcome  since  to  us  was  giv'n, 

* 

So  rich  a  heritage  from  gen'rous  Heav'n, 
To  parcel  out  among  the  world's  oppressed, 
Who  seek  a  shelter  in  our  ample  breast ! 
Then  let  them  come  but  stay  their  sacred  vote, 
While  yet  they  know  not  of  its  full  import ; 
Instruct  them  well  in  freedom's  noble  school, 
Ere  they  essay  the  nation's  hardy  rule  : 
Them  make  to  know  the  genius  of  our  laws ; 
Enfranchise  not  till  true  to  patriot's  cause ; 
Them  teach  the  spirit  of  that  noble  page, 
Where  freedom's  triumphs  deeply  are  engrav'd, 


THE     CANNONADE.  67 

By  hands  of  steel  and  hearts  of  purest  love, 

Inspired  with  virtue  from  the  throne  above ! 

A  noble  work  —  all  time's  concentred  beams, 

Of  wisdom  flash'd  from  passion's  wild  extremes  I 

Let  it  be  guarded  by  Briarian  host, 

To  draw  earth's  crush'd  ones  to  our  smiling  coast ; 

That  runs  from  North  to  South  from  South  to  North, 

Each  clime  embracing  in  its  sweeping  course  I 

The  darkened  forests  of  sombre  northern  Maine, 

The  fruits  and  flowers  o'  Carolina's  plain  ; 

The  virgin  gold  of  El-Dorado's  soil, 

The  grain  of  Oregon  —  the  whale,  its  oil,  — 

Thy  Stars  and  Stripes  o'er  ev'ry  int'rest  waves, 

On  ev'ry  sea  the  world's  advent'rers  brave  ; 

What  man  can  do,  has  done,  or,  may  achieve, 

Beneath  thy  folds  that  genius  is  conceived  I 


68  THE     CANNONADE. 

As  through  the  lists  of  great  and  honored  names, 

Which  this  our  land  with  right  acknowledged  claims, 

None  with  a  splendor,  so  enrich 'd  by  thought, 

So  full  in  science,  so  exactly  taught, 

Our  eye  transpierces  with  its  regal  light, 

As  that  of  Ev'rett  th'  scholar  and  the  knight  — 

The  noble  statesman,  orator  sublime  I 

No  tongue  excells  him  on  the  page  of  time  : 

With  Cicero  is  twined  his  genius  grand, 

Whose  silvery  accents  move  the  heart  of  man: 

We  oft  have  hung  upon  thy  mellow  breath, 

As  it  hath  woke  a  Webster's  soul  from  death ; 

As  it  hath  wrought  in  bright  enduring  gold, 

The  graceful  Choate's  imperial  hardy  soul ; 

As  it  hath  stir'd  the  circumambient  air, 

With  words  of  wisdom  and  with  truth  most  fair ; 


THE     CANNONADE,  69 

Thy  spirit  then  commingling  with  our  own, 
We  felt  how  needless  to  thy  fame  —  a  throne  ! 
We  felt  how  futile  is  all  human  praise, 
To  raise  thy  stature,  make  more  green  thy  bays  ; 
Yet,  if  the  nation  drawn  in  love  to  thee, 
Proclaim  thee  Chief  of  spirits  bold  and  free, 
Well  would  the  honor  fair  become  thy  brow,  — 
Admiring  nations  low  to  thee  would  bow ! 
But  if,  perchance,  thy  brilliant  life  shall  end, 
And  thou  shalt  not  to  this  high  prize  descend, 
Thy  country  reckless  of  its  dearest  trust, 
Will  bend  repentant  o'er  thy  sacred  dust ;  «,t 

And  when  too  late  to  justice  mete  to  thee, 
Will  weep  its  shame,  its  reckless  perfidy  ! 
For  who  throughout  our  country's  wide  domain, 
Doth  bear  a  purer,  nobler,  sweeter  name  ; 


TO  THE    CANNONADE. 

Who  merits  more  the  love  of  this  fair  land, 
Than  he  whose  genius  should  its  votes  command  ? 
Than  he  whose  wisdom  as  the  star-throned  sky, 
Attracts  and  charms  each  upward  bending  eye. 
Whilst  little  men  by  littler  men  are  placed, 
In  honored  trusts  they  fail  not  to  disgrace ; 
Whilst  meals  full  three  per  day  and  liquor  too, 
The  State  allows  as  politicians'  due  ; 
Maintains  "his  crowd"  and  wipes  their  weeping  eyes; 
Whom  those  unfriendly  to  their  ease,  despise  ; 
Whilst  loutish  ign 'ranee  makes  its  ready  way, 
Where  learning  cautious  treads  tho'  fair  the  day ; 
Whilst  bribes  are  offered  and  with  freedom  ta'en, 
"  To  put  through  bills/'  however  black  with  shame  ; 
Whilst  men  uprising  from  the  sloughs  of  crime, 
With  statesmen  dally  and  with  virtue  dine ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  11 

Whilst  falsehood  roves  with  dagger  in  its  hand, 
To  strike  at  honor,  drive  it  from  the  land  ; 
Whilst  God's  appointed  to  proclaim  his  word, 
Neglect  their  trust  and  are  impatient  heard  ; 
Enlisting  boldly  and  with  painful  zeal, 
In  politician's  and  the  trader's  field  ; 
Whilst  Commerce  is  but  most  agreeable  cheat, 
And  e'en  philosophy  is  tamely  weak ; 
Whilst  much  of  learning  is  of  worthless  force, 
And  meatless  student  steers  a  devious  course  ; 
Whilst  mothers  bid  their  sons  be  reckless  men, 
Whilst  yet  their  pap  's  unspooned,  their  age  not  ten  ; 
Whilst  maidens  smile  on  such  as  gently  sigh, 
Who  swear  "  without  them  they  shall  surely  die ;" 
Whilst  slip-shod  genius  on  shrewd  talent  waits, 
Of  fame's  rich  temple  seized  —  her  massive  gates ; 


THE     CANNONADE. 

Ne'er  strange  it  is  that  deep  and  brilliant  wit, 
Oft  fails  of  justice,  as  may  Everett. 
0,  gorgeous  genius  I  not  a  fulsome  praise, 
Would  we  accord  thy  grandly-passing  days  ; 
Not  faultless  would  we  name  thy  life  or  mind, 
Thou  art  a  man !  his  passions  all  are  thine : 
Yet  we  for  thee  twine  the  civic  wreath, 
And  sweetest  music  'tribute  to  thy  breath : 
No  brain  enchants  us  with  a  purer  wit ; 
No  face  with  honor  is  more  brightly  lit ; 
On  hist'ry-leaf  thou  wilt  most  fair  be  found, 
Enfolded  in  the  niche  of  Washington  I 
Thy  ardent  work  to  wrest  from  loss  his  tomb, 
Alone  might  earn  thee  this  exalted  boon  ; 
And  when  in  after  ages  men  shall  read, 
Of  these  our  times  so  much  of  truth  in  need, 


THE     CANNONADE.  73 

Not  in  the  annals  of  the  hoary  world, 

Shall  two  such  names  sweet  Concord's  arms  enfold  I 

E'en  as  dear  lovers  hushed  in  dreamless  sleep, 

Shall  future  scholars  with  thy  mem'ry  meet ; 

And  pressing  gently  thy  immortal  brows, 

To  Heaven  breathe  a  patriot's  earnest  vows.1 


Liberty  1  fair  goddess  o'  the  human  heart, 
How  sad  and  harrowing  thy  tragic  part ; 
With  action  played  oppressive  to  the  mind, 
By  fear  enwrapp'd  to  cautious  step  inclined  ; 
How  bit  the  dust,  how  dared  the  brutal  throne  ; 
Its  caitiff  pride  to  Phlegethon  hath  borne  I 
In  chains  at  times ;  at  times  in  vengeful  wrath, 

Uprising  fiercely  on  the  tyrant's  path  j 

7 


74  THE     CANNONADE. 

Sad  death  decreeing  to  all  those  who  hate, 
"The  doctrine  vile  of  democratic  state  ;" 
Uprooting  kingdoms  with  thy  fearful  hand, 
Dread  dearth  invoking  where  once  bloom'd  the  land  ; 
Thy  foes  pursuing  with  th'  assassin's  knife  ; 
Like  rain  outpouring  th'  precious  boon  of  life  : 
How  stooped  e'en  lower  than  the  harshest  rule, 
To  gain  thy  ends  and  thine  own  self  befool ; 
How  butcher'd  e'en  the  purest  of  this  earth, 
To  slake  thy  passions  and  commend  thy  birth ; 
How  whined  and  whimpered  in  thy  captive  state, 
By  stern  kings  mocked  who  bore  thee  haughty  hate; 
Oh,  liberty  !  with  all  thy  priceless  worth, 
Thou  yet  dost  lack  an  earnest  love  of  truth : 
E'en  thou  as  despot  and  his  titled  slaves, 
Protect,  aye,  pamper,  most  convenient  knaves  J 


THE    CANNONADE.  75 

So  that,  impartial  as  we  view  mankind, 

Corrupted  rule  appears  on  either  hand  ;l 

Alike  the  freeman  as  the  haughty  king, 

To  human  hearts  do  keenest  sorrow  bring ; 

Yet  nations  all  are  panting  to  be  free, 

There  is  no  love  so  dear  as  liberty  I 

If  kings  are  tyrants  so  are  freemen  too  ; 

Both  dupes  and  despots  in  the  thinker's  view ; 

Of  reason  false  and  to  high  honor  dead, 

They  seek  the  wreath  for  their  aspiring  head  ; 

They  smile  and  growl  with  equal  gusto  grand, 

As  rule  escapes,  or,  lingers  yet  in  hand ; 

They  are  the  wretches  who  beneath  a  king, 

Would  bear  the  offal  to  his  stately  bin  ; 

Him  keep  informed  of  his  dear  subjects'  health, 

Their  secret  thoughts  and  what  they  do  by  stealth  ; 


76  THE    CANNONADE. 

They  are  the  minions  Vile  who  arm'd  with  dirks, 
Would  plant  them  'neath  their  dear  companions  shirts; 

Of  king  to  gain  one  fond  approving  smile, 

• 

Be  near  the  throne  to  tend  his  nod  the  while ; 

So  thus  they  with  "  our  sovereign  "  people  strive, 

By  blackest  arts  the  country  to  divide ; 

By  cunning  mildness  and  by  "  softest  cheek," 

Enrich'd  perhaps  by  slightest  tinge  of  Greek  : 

These  active  rascals  prouder  than  a  king, 

The  posts  of  honor  and  affection  win  ; 

And  while  of  liberty  they  wildly  shout, 

Despise  the  freeman  as  they  ask  his  vote. 

Sweet  liberty !  thou  art  indeed  to  man, 

A  cause  to  bless  him,  or,  to  deeply  damn  ; 

There  is  no  middle  point  for  thee  to  rest, 

Great  joy  is  thine,  or,  terrible  distress  1 


THE     CANNONADE.  ft 

• 

Here,  oh,  here,  to  this  grand  western  world, 

Thro'  ages  thou  and  nation's  dust  art  hurl'd  ; 

Thy  reckless  spirit  and  adventurous  step, 

With  tears  and  blood  thy  pathways  all  have  wet: 

And  man  despoil'd  of  dearest  hopes  in  thee, 

Has  cursed  thy  advent  and  democracy  1 

Not  fate  be  it  of  this  our  native  land, 

To  weep  thy  visit  to  her  wave-worn  strand  ; 

Not  fate  be  it  of  her  too  restless  mind, 

In  passion's  gulf  eternal  death  to  find ! 

But  let  forbearance  pois'd  on  virtue's  wing, 

Like  cherub  sit  by  some  clear  holy  spring ; 

Where  angels  passing  to  and  fro  from  earth, 

Their  light  limbs  cool  and  slake  their  airy  thirst. 

We  must  forbear !  few  people  yet  have  been, 

WTiose  freedom  rested  on  a  base  so  thin,  — 
7* 


78  THE     CANNONADE. 

The  virtue  of  the  masses,  conscience  true  ! 

Of  ev'ry  soul  with  much  or  naught  to  do  — 

Alike  the  fatling  and  the  lean-rib'd  man, 

Who  hews  the  wood,  brings  water  at  command,  — 

We  must  forbear  !  each  section  with  the  West, 

Must  passion  tear  from  virtue's  gentle  breast ; 

The  negro-phobia  beetling  our  peace, 

Should  cause  our  strifes  and  petty  hates  to  cease ; 

The  South  should  yield  to  spirit  of  the  age, 

Nor  claim  for  slav'ry  further  patronage : 

The  law  organic  ought  not  to  be  broke, 

In  its  safe  keeping  lies  our  fondest  hope  I 

The  Constitution  was  not  form'd  to  nurse, 

This  Southern  viper,  this  Sarsaric  curse  ! l 

If  this  be  true,  (and  all  men  must  agree,  * 

The  genius  of  our  laws  is  liberty !) 


THE    CANNONADE.  79 

How  dare  the  South  to  make  of  th'  North  demand, 
To  roll  dread  slav'ry  further  o'er  the  land  ; 
Is 't  thought  we  fear,  and  are  of  reason  weak, 
Will  favor  deeds  our  tongues  would  blast  to  speak  ; 
Is  't  deemed  that  men  whose  thinking  souls  deplore, 
That  basest  chains  were  brought  to  freedom's  shore  ; 
Will  foul  their  names  by  voting  to  extend, 
An  institution  shackling  dark-skin'd  men : 
Is  't  thought  the  North  from  fear  will  bow  its  head, 
Obedient  to  the  haughty  Southron's  tread  ? 
Ah  no  !  the  right,  the  right,  will  nerve  her  men, 
To  duty's  path  tho'  chaos  come  again ! 
For  tho'  we  know  not  every  slave  is  kick'd, 
But  kindest  treatment  many  thousands  get ; 
And  tho'  we  know  the  Southern  heart  is  warm, 
That  many  slaves  as  children  do  become ; 


80  THE     CANNONADE. 

Yet  tho'  each  black  was  treated  as  a  son, 

Still  would  we  say,  "  Slavery  thou  art  wrong ;" 

The  law  that  chains  the  sacred  form  of  man, 

Is  false  to  God,  to  nature,  and  command  I 

There  is  no  tenure  by  which  a  being, 

In  God's  own  image  may  be  call'd  a  thing  1 

There  is  no  tenure  which  the  human  will, 

With  fairness  holds  a  dumb  and  senseless  chatt'l ! 

Yet,  tho'  we  know  unjust  to  be  the  chain, 

Which  goads  the  blackman  of  our  Southern  plain, 

We  still  would  bear  the  gen'rous  South  a  heart, 

As  true  as  steel,  above  a  caitiff's  part ; 

We  still  would  say,  "  Brother,  thy  load  is  great, 

Us  give  to  bear  a  portion  of  thy  fate  ; 

But  add  not  to  instead  of  lightening  weight, 

Else,  sir,  we  '11  leave  thee  to  thy  darksome  state ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  81 

We  '11  harder  work  to  circumvent  thy  will, 

To  break  it  down  and  freedom's  hope  fulfill. 

Ye  shall  not  in  the  face  of  outrag'd  heav'n. 

For  falsehood  steal  what  to  dear  truth  was  giv'n ; 

Ye  shall  not  make  of  us  th'  accursed  tool, 

To  build  up  States  where  foulest  slav'ry  rules : 

No,  no  ;  the  North  of  virtue  claims  no  more, 

Than  is  within  thy  green  and  flow'ry  shore ; 

Yet  hates  the  lash  and  will  defend  her  faith, 

That  "Slav'ry's  spread  is  speedy  civil  death."1 


Altho'  on  Southern  soil  we  first  drew  breath, 
There  first  essay'd  to  win  the  prize  of  wealth  ; 
There  form'd  our  earliest  friendships,  there  attained 

^ 

To  know  ambition  to  be  false  and  vain, 


82  THE     CANNONADE. 

Yet  do  we  say,  with  all  our  Southern  love, 

The  Southern  temper  we  cannot  approve, 

On  this  the  foremost  question  of  the  day, 

"Shall  slav'ry  triumph,  or,  shall  freedom  sway?" 

It  is  the  course  of  nature  that  the  right, 

The  wrong  will  hurl  into  Cimmerian  night ; 

And  Southern  genius  should  accept  the  law, 

With  gentle  mind  tho'  slavery's  reign  be  o'er: 

'T  is  better  far  to  act  the  part  of  sage, 

Than  smite  a  nation  with  the  hand  of  rage ; 

'T  is  better  far  to  yield  with  noble  air, 

Than  bid  defiance  to  what 's  just  and  fair ; 

If  slav'ry  's  doom'd  by  truth's  imperial  sweep, 

Why  foam  with  wrath,  or,  why  in  sorrow  weep ; 

'Tis  God's  appointment!  no  brave  South  can  stay 

His  will  —  obtain  o'er  dashing  nature  sway  I 


THE    CANNONADE.  83 

It  is  "  to  kick  against  the  pricks  "  to  dare, 
Oppose  Jehovah — his  decrees  impair! 
Let  then  the  South  no  longer  chafe  with  ire, 
"  Keep  dry  its  powder  and  withhold  its  fire  ;" 
To  th>  North,  the  East,  the  West,  be  kindly  true, 
And  pass  on  history's  page  in  grand  review. 
We  are  in  Union  to  the  world  —  a  fear ! 
The  bond  but  break  and  pity  drops  a  tear ; 
The  king  exults,  while  th'  masses  in  despair, 
Their  sad  breasts  beat  and  curse  the  troubled  air ; 
Deny  th'  existence  of  all  right  and  God, 
And  madly  plunge  beneath  the  teeming  sod  ; 
Of  life  enwearied,  turn  to  that  sweet  rest, 
Where  man  no  more  can  their  proud  souls  oppress ; 
Within  the  earth-damp  whence  they  moaning  came, 
Alike  unheeded  is  one's  praise,  or,  blame. 


84  THE    CANNONADE. 

0,  Death !  what  joy  to  those  who  toil  in  tears, 
To  whom  this  world  a  cheerless  scene  appears ; 
Who  think  and  think  until  the  mind  is  fill'd, 
With  dread  reality  of  human  ill ! 
Who  see  the  little  that  there  is  of  good, 
Sly  rogues  well  fill'd,  while  virtue  beggeth  food ; 
The  Church  where  Satan  sits  and  mocks  at  God, 
Where  bloated  Dives  on  want's  neck  hath  trod ; 
Where  priest  and  people  filthy  in  their  pride, 
But  mouth  the  doctrines  by  their  act  denied. 
And  these  are  Christians !  ah,  if  rightly  nam'd, 
Th'  "  Rapacious  harpies  !  "  would  all  men  exclaim ; 
Those  dogs  of  Jupiter  who  lov'd  the  storm, 
With  woman's  face  to  vulture's  body  form'd ; 
They  ravaged  earth  and  peopl'd  hell  with  souls, 
JSneas  plundered  and  his  fate  foretold. 


THE     CANNONADE.  85 

It  is  a  sad  and  fearful  sight  to  see, 

A  congregation  bending  to  the  knee, 

In  worship  of  the  great  and  glorious  God, 

Whose  word  unheeded  'neath  their  heel  is  trod. 

It  is  a  sad  and  fearful  fact  to  know, 

Your  Christian  friend  is  oft  your  basest  foe  ; 

It  is  a  sad  and  fearful  thing  to  be, 

By  th'  wand  assail'd  of  JEtean  Circe: 

And  sadder  yet  by  far  it  is  to  feel, 

How  false  are  all  revolving  on  life's  wheel  I 

Then  do  we  sigh,  indeed,  and  bowM  with  shame, 

Inquire  what 's  man,  that  he  should  covet  fame ; 

And  what  is  fame  but  labor  often  lost, 

"  A  game  not  worth  the  candle  it  doth  cost/' 

If  thro'  this  life  we  can  retain  our  truth, 

And  cherish  somewhat  of  the  green  of  youth, 
8 


86  THE    CANNONADE. 

We  should  contented  be  and  meet  the  grave, 

With  smiles  not  fears,  as  fits  the  humble  brave. 

What  boots  it  when  on  earth's  broad  breast  we  lie, 

If  trade  engag'd  us,  or,  advancement  high  ? 

Who  cares  for  man  when  unto  dust  return'd, 

Tho'  his  true  soul  with  holy  virtue  burn'd  ? 

The  noblest  as  the  meanest  pass  away, 

Alike  as  worms  to  mix  again  with  clay ; 

None  but  the  great  Creator  can  withstand, 

The  laws  gigantic  of  his  master  hand  ; 

He,  he,  alone,  the  troubled  heart  can  ease, 

Its  sadness  cheer,  its  fearful  hate  appease ; 

He,  he,  alone,  can  save  us  from  ourself, 

Affix  to  honor  all  our  needed  wealth. 

To  him  we  turn  when  riot  shakes  our  soul, 

And  madness  fierce  its  fi'ry  eyeballs  roll ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  87 

When  passion  stung  by  life's  envenom'd  snakes, 

From  sweet  control  in  wild  confusion  breaks ; 

When  all  seems  darkness,  misery,  and  death, 

With  foul  plagues  charged  each  vip'rous  human  breath, 

;Tis  then  uprising  from  this  slough  of  sin, 

We  seek  our  God,  and  put  our  trust  in  him  ; 

His  spirit  falling  soft  as  flaky  snow, 

Our  heart  possesses  —  passion's  reign  overthrow  I 

Again  harmonious  in  our  inner  life, 

Pass  on  forgetful  of  occurring  strife. 

Oh,  sweet !  it  is,  the  Christian's  faith  in  God,  — 

To  hear  his  voice  as  when  Eden's  sward  he  trod ; 

Oh,  sweet  I  it  is,  in  chambers  of  the  mind, 

To  feel  his  presence  as  the  summer  wind : 

Who,  who,  can  name  that  wondrous  joy  which  springs, 

From  close  acquaintance  with  most  holy  things ; 


88  THE     CANNONADE. 

Who,  who,  describe  those  moments  strangely  grand, 

When  souls  as  God,  all  nature's  wonders  scan ; 

When  to  the  unveil'd  vision  doth  appear, 

All  objects,  vast  and  varied,  far  and  near ; 

How  at  an  instant  of  tremendous  ken, 

The  awe-struck  soul  with  silent  fear  doth  bend. 


As  once  we  sat  in  sweet  abstraction  deep, 

* 
Our  vision  nature  pass'd  with  frightful  sweep, 

The  view  most  gorgeous  rent  our  burthen'd  eye, 
And  backward  dash'd  us  to  mortality : 
With  shock  voltaic 'gainst  our  chair  was  roll'd, 
While  on  our  feet  we  stood  with  trembling  soul : 
We  could  not  bear  the  fearful  sight  of  space, 
Jehovah's  glory  smote  our  dazzled  face. 


THE     CANNONADE.  89 

Ye,  who  of  earth,  enwearied,  do  aspire, 

To  scale  fair  heaven  in  fond  truth's  desire, 

Beware,  beware,  the  danger  that  attends, 

The  false  pursuit  of  these  alluring  ends  : 

Since  reason  though  ?t  may  be  both  full  and  strong, 

Is  oft  to  fragments  by  excitement  torn  ; 

The  moral  sense  by  disappointment  sapp'd, 

Becomes  debauch'd,  for  every  crime  is  .apt ; 

The  man  disgusted  with  himself  and  God, 

Existence  hates,  so  too,  the  civil  rod  ; 

There  is  to  him  no  rest  upon  this  globe, 

Where  chance  hath  made  him  but  a  curs'd  abode: 

If,  when  the  human  carcass  is  escaped, 

The  soul  doth  enter  on   another  state, 

He  would  be  gone  from  out  "  this  den  of  thieves," 

To  gain  that  world  in  which  he  hopes,  believes ; 
8* 


90  THE     CANNONADE. 

And  tho'  by  doubts  beset,  yet,  doth  he  dare, 
To  flee  this  earth  in  quest  of  spheres  more  fair. 


As  through  this  land  new  found  we  musing  tread  ; 
And  scan  the  living  as  the  honor' d  dead, 
Suggestive  thoughts  come  leaping  to  the  mind, 
With  fairest  grace  and  charity  combined. — 
The  godlike  deeds  of  those  who  now  repose, 
Where  loving  hand  doth  daily  place  the  rose ; 
Where  Clay,  Calhouu,  and  Benton,  are  no  more, 
But  as  remember Jd  for  their  wondrous  lore  ; 
Where  Thomas  Jefferson,  Munroe,  and  Dane, 
In  death  have  found  an  ever-living  fame  ; 
Where  Hancock,  Adams,  and  great  Webster  Ho, 
The  sacred  objects  of  the  pilgrim's  eye  ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  91 

Where  Bowditch,  Fulton,  and  dear  Spurzheim  sleep, 
While  guardian  friendship  silent  vigils  keep  ; 
Where  D'catur,  Franklin,  and  brave  Lawrence  speak, 
A  language  purer  than  the  purest  Greek  ; 
Where  Patrick  Henry,  Tom  Paine,  and  Jackson, 
The  merchant  Morris  and  sweet  Hamilton, 
Where  Clinton,  Jay,  and  dearest  Harvard  breathe, 
Their  lofty  principles  to  th'  waving  leaves ; 
Where  reckless  Cilly  points  a  painful  end, 
So  deeply  sad  to  stranger  and  to  friend ; 
Where  gallant  Ringold  and  the  bold  McClung, 
Of  Mexic'  plains  proclaim  their  valor  won ! 
Where  Cooper,  Irving,  gentle  Prescott  dream ; 
Where  Allston,  Channing,  Wesley,  yet  are  green  -, 
Where  women  lov'd  in  life  who  wrote  and  prayed, 
As  cherubs  fair  lie  in  the  cooling  shade  ; 


yz  THE    CANNONADE. 

Where  all  the  noble  and  the  pure  of  heart, 
In  commerce,  science,  literature,  and  art, 
Repose  majestic  on  the  heights  of  truth, 
For  which  they  labor'd  from  their  early  youth : 
Their  deeds  heroic  are  in  full  array'd, 
Before  our  eye  like  pearls  in  Ormar's  cave ; 
To  each  and  all  would  we  expression  give, 
Were  genius  ours  to  make  expression  live  ; 
Thro'  other  pens  more  graceful  and  more  strong1, 
Must  we  commit  these  purest  themes  to  song. 


The  age  —  how  deep  !  since  all  do  think  who  can, 
From  genteel  cook  to  most  ambitious  man. 
If  one  would  teach  in  these  smart  thinking  times, 
He  must  have  studied  at  a  race-horse's  time  ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  93 

At  least  a  mile  two-forty  he  must  go, 

O'er  learning's  track  with  other  nags  to  know. 

The  word  is  steam,  slow  coaches  are  despised, 

To  keep  the  road  there  needs  broad  ears  and  eyes. 

Throughout  the  land  deep  thinkers  are  wide  cast, 

And  one  must  study  hard  with  these  to  pass. 

You  're  sounded  instantly  by  Mr.  Dickey  ; 

Himself  a  wit  he  'd  have  all  others  witty ; 

If  not  a  scholar,  with  contemptuous  air, 

He  turns  away  for  others  deem'd  more  fair. 

A  genius,  or,  a  talent,  in  this  land, 

And  in  this  age  each  freeman  must  command, 

If  he  would  hold  above  the  tide  his  head, 

Procure  a  living  and  a  tidy  bed : 

It  is  an  age  of  bustle  and  of  pride, 

Of  scamps  most  daring  in  assurance  dyed ; 


94  THE    CANNONADE. 

Who  elbow  all  —  deceive  their  truest  friends, 

Perchance  obstructing  their  ambitious  ends. 

Genius  t'  truth  in  firmest  bond  allied, 

Doth  not  like  talent  dare  the  sweeping  tide  ; 

But  cautious  keeps  along  the  shady  bank, 

With  fogy  care  and  slow  but  steady  tramp : 

It  sees  the  falsehoods  that  lay  wait  to  snag, 

Its  shoulders  shrug  at  talent  strangely  mad. 

If  in  the  country's  councils  it  is  heard, 

Its  voice  forewarns,  with  care  expressed  its  words ; 

Seldom  audacious  to  attain  the  rule, 

It  snubs  the  braggart  and  disarms  the  fool. 

It  blusters  not,  nor  makes  a  great  parade, 

As  does  the  demagogue  his  stock  in  trade, 

And  every  circumstance  his  hopes  may  aid ; 

As  does  the  maiden  flat  in  breast  and  sides, 


T  H  E     C  A  N  N  0  N  A  D  E  .  95 

Pad  well  both  parts  to  please  the  lover's  eyes ; 
As  does  the  merchant  talk  of  honor  well, 
With  sanded  sugar  he  would  gladly  sell ; 
As  does  the  butcher  with  an  honest  face, 
In  th'  bone  well  shave  and  smile  at  his  disgrace : 
As  does  the  artist  respectful  manner  hold, 
To  patrons  squib'd  when  artists  are  alone ; 
As  does  the  servant  'neath  his  master's  gaze, 
Appear  to  honor  his  disgusting  ways  ; 
As  does  in  fact  near  all  mankind  pretend, 
To  be  when  enemy,  your  warmest  friend  ; 
But  not  so  genius,  talent  plays  that  game, 
And  plays  to  win,  to  snatch  a  worthless  fame. 
Our  country,  oft  are  ye  the  nurse  of  crime, 
With  thee  doth  honor  little  favor  find  ; 
;T  is  commerce  rules  ye  either  foul  or  fair, 


96  THE    CANNONADE. 

Your  men  as  women  sport  a  snobbish  air : 

Your  laymen  fat  and  lazy  lech'rous  priest, 

Alike  seek  women  and  the  sumptuous  feast ; 

Christians  in  hand  with  knavish  pagans  go, 

In  search  for  bliss  which  is  but  shaded  woe. 

And  this,  our  country,  we  may  say  of  thee, 

The  cradle  dear  and  home  of  liberty  ! 

Where  men  may  do  and  say  whatever  they  please, 

Debauch  a  virgin  for  a  lawyer's  fees  ; 

From  churches  steal,  rob  dead  men's  eyes, 

Of  coppers  laid  there  by  attendants  wise ; 

Defraud  the  banks  and  turn  up  Jack  all  round, 

To  startle  states  and  terrify  the  town ; 

This  men  may  do  and  gain  a  host  of  friends, 

"  To  put  them  through  "  their  sly  nefarious  ends. 


THECANNONADE.  9Y 

As  we  survey  with  full  impartial  mind, 

Each  class  of  men  which  civil  rule  combines, 

Throughout  all  numbers  we  perceive  the  cast, 

Of  gentle  cheat  from  foremost  to  the  last. 

Cheat,  cheat,  cheat,  oh,  that 's  the  ennobling  plan, 

Which  stands  approved  in  this  fair  freedom's  land ; 

Cheat,  cheat,  cheat,  learn  well  that  chiefest  art, 

And  practice  earnestly  to  play  your  part ; 

You  shall  become  with  talents  to  sustain, 

A  cit  most  popular,  of  honored  name  ; 

Cheat,  cheat,  cheat,  it  is  my  friend  good  law, 

No  prison  is  but  for  the  helpless  poor ! 

Cheat,  cheat,  cheat,  you  are  not  smart  if  true, 

To  what  you  know  sweet  conscience  claims  her  due  I 

Thus  skill'd  in  art  of  tricking  fellow-men, 

The  other  each  doth  eye  with  careful  ken  : 
9 


98  THE     CANNONADE. 

No  word  is  spoke,  no  impulse  moves  the  breast, 
But  subtlest  chaps  its  subtlest  meaning  guess ; 
And  thus  a  diamond  cuts  a  diamond  well, 
And  thus  is  paved  the  gilded  halls  of  hell  I 
0,  Jupiter  I  thy  bolts  prepare  to  hurl, 
Against  the  cheat  of  this  new  Western  world ; 
Where  crime  is  rampant  and  where  faith  is  dead, 
Where  men  by  false  philosophy  are  led  ; 
Where  all  are  thinkers  and  but  few  think  right, 
Where  genius  hangs  upon  the  brow  of  night;  — 
Thy  bolts  let  slip  and  dash  vile  falsehood  down, 
Give  virtue  sway  to  claim  and  hold  her  own. 
Oh,  little  men  and  little  things  we  spurn, 
Ye  both  and  all  your  trumpery  concerns  ! 
When  will  the  time  draw  near  that  sense  shall 
And  justice  ask  not  for  our  love  in  vain  ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  99 

When  will  those  days  begin  to  truth  most  dear, 

Which  are  to  stay  neglected  genius'  tear ; 

When  shall  a  freeman  feel  a  freeman's  pride, 

That  on  our  shores  true  manly  thought  abides ; 

Ah,  when  !  the  bounding  echo  does  not  say, 

It  yet  may  be  a  long  and  wearying  day. 

It  is  no  wish  of  ours  to  be  severe, 

Where  censure  keen  doth  needful  not  appear ; 

We  'd  write,  how  gladly  write,  full  in  thy  praise, 

If  duty  forced  us  not  to  honest  ways. 

It  is  for  us  to  witness  and  declare, 

If  men  are  false,  or,  in  their  actions  fair ; 

We  must  be  fearless  to  condemn,  or,  praise, 

As  we  behold  the  course  of  human  ways : 

And  sad  it  is  to  see  what  we  do  see, 

And  sadder  still  to  know  this  land  is  free  I 


100  THE     CANNONADE. 

For  if  stout  freemen  cannot  hold  to  truth, 
Oh,  what  is  Liberty  to  nations  worth  ? 
'T  is  but  the  license  to  carouse  at  will, 
And  scatter  broadly  ev'ry  human  ill ; 
;T  is  but  the  light  whose  false  and  fatal  rays, 
Mislead  the  thoughtless  and  the  wise  dispraise ; 
We  would  be  free,  yet,  one  despot  can  endure, 
With  greater  ease  than  countless  numbers  more  ; 
A  ruffian  rabble  is  a  fearful  law, 
Which  soundest  wisdom  always  must  deplore  : 
Our  country !  yet,  we  would  not  hope  discard, 
While  still  for  thee  we  cherish  fond  regard ; 
While  yet  we  think  thou  may'st  to  honor  turn, 
And  for  thy  truth  the  world's  affection  earn. 
Ah  no,  "while  yet  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  perchance  return ;" 


THE     CANNONADE.  101 

So  we  of  thee  hath  hope  our  much  lov'd  land, 
And  think  o'er  thee  will  honor  yet  command. 

We  '11  now  unto  the  politician's  home ; 
Enter  his  study  —  ah,  he  is  alone ! 
This  Solon  thinks  because  he 's  "up  in  books/' 
And  with  his  mind  the  country,  wide,  overlooks, 

• 

That  he,  so  "far  above  the  vulgar  crowd/' 

Should  be  acknowledged  by  mankind  —  "  my  lord :" 

In  politics  well  versed  —  he  knows  that  states, 

Uprise  and  fall  at  equal  rapid  rates  ; 

He  'd  show  his  country,  rude,  the  way  to  fame, 

And  add  more  lustre  to  "  his  rising  name  ; 

A  "  party  man  "  he  seeks  a  full  control ; 

To  gain  the  reins,  he  plys  his  fervid  soul : 

He  's  now  composing  a  tremendous  speech, 
9* 


102  .THE     CANNONADE. 

He  's  bound  much  wisdom  to  declare  and  teach  ; 
Behold  his  brow,  care-pressed,  as  runs  the  pen, 
In  solemn  silence  to  its  journey's  end, 
Save  when  grand  thoughts  to  th;  paper  grandly  pass, 
Which  moves  our  hero  to  exclaim —  "  Hellas  ! 
Hellas  !  this  shall  immortalize  my  brass  !  " 

The  speech  completed  and  with  care  expressed, 

.. 
Is  folded  warmly  to  his  beating  breast ; 

He  reads  it  o'er  and  o'er  until  the  mind, 
Precisely  knows  each  graceful  gaudy  line  ; 
Then  going  before  "the  dear  and  sov'reign  crowd," 
Proclaims   his   thoughts  —  deemed  most  profound, 

aloud ; 

Some  laugh,  some  sigh,  some  say,  "  Oh,  what  an  ass, 
To  think  that  he  can  for  a  statesman  pass ! " 
The  joking  cuts  him,  but  he  will  not  yield, 


THE    CANNONADE.  103 

To  better  men  this  rough  laborious  field  ; 
He  talks  and  talks  and  more  of  mischief  makes, 
Than  e'er  of  good  can  come  of  his  debates. 
Throughout  the  country  such  imbicles  swarm, 
The  source  of  startling  and  of  just  alarm  ; 
They  mean  to  do  a  wond'rous  work  for  man, 
And  while  they  serve  him;  see  not  that  they  damn. 
This  is  your  statesman  wise  in  his  conceit, 
Who  thinks  that  wisdom  is  but  loud  to  speak ; 
Who  "  struts  his  hour  on  the  stage  of  life," 
And  ends,  perhaps,  his  hopeless  days  with  knife ; 
"  The  rabble  "  cursing  who  could  not  endure, 
"  His  splendid  wit,"  he  deemed  most  ardent,  pure : 
There  sits  he  much  inflated  with  false  hope, 
Of  working  out  what's  far  beyond  his  scope  ; 
Yet,  if  a  friend  should  whisper  in  his  ear 


104  THE    CANNONADE. 

Of  failure,  how  enraged  he  would  appear  : 

lie  's  doomed  howe'er  to  tread  that  path  of  shame  ; 

To  reap  not  honor,  but  disgust  and  blame  ! 

Thus  thro'  the  land  is  talent  lost  to  men, 

Who,  misdirected,  unto  subjects  bend 

Their  minds,  too  weak  to  master  what  they  would  — 

And  thus  on  other's  spheres  do  dare  intrude. 

We  have  no  word  of  censure  to  assign, 

Enough  tartaric  to  these  madly  blind, 

Who,  proud,  ambitious,  are  so  discontent, 

To  fill  such  stations  as  for  them  were  meant. 

Why  do  not  men,  impartial,  view  their  wit, 

And  "  take  to  that "  for  which  they  are  most  fit ! 

Why  cannot  youth  who  would  the  merchant  be, 

Conform  with  willingness  to  his  degree  ; 

Why  cannot  law  and  art  and  all  science, 


THE     CANNONADE.  105 

Be  undisturbed  by  those  of  doubtful  sense  ? 
Then  would  ensue  a  wholesome,  needful  change, 
Of  staring  stupids  for  those  having  brains  I 
And  kind  content  be  more  disposed  to  reign, 
When  none  presumed  a  hopeless  prize  to  gain  ; 
But  all  at  work,  behold  each  working  well, 
While  genius  leads  which  harmony  compells. 

/"- 

Stand  forth  ye  blattering  and  ferocious  crew, 

Who  damn  all  men  in  mind  oppos'd  to  you ; 

Stand  forth  we  say  that  we  may  send  a  shaft, 

'Gainst  thy  foul  ribs  in  duty's  dear  behalf  I 

Ye  would  the  Union  crack,  in  th'  centre  too, 

Bid  terror  reign  to  smite  mankind  anew : 

Ye  claim  of  God  to  be, to  speak  the  truth, 

While  your  base  teachings  would  disgrace  the  brute  I 


\ 


106  THE     CANNONADE. 

Alike  the  Bible  and  thy  country  hate, 
Would  both  consign  to  Agamemnon's  fate. 
We  know  thee  well, we  've  mark'd  thy  brazen  steps, 
Have  noted  close  thy  controversial  pets  ; 
Have  seen  thy  venom  spat  at  godlike  worth, 
Compared  to  thee  as  blessings  to  a  curse ! 
Of  all  the  imps  in  hell  none  equal  thee, 
Thou  Atean  scourge  of  cherish'd  liberty. 
The  vilest  wretch  within  a  dungeon's  walls, 
The  worst  of  reptiles  that  on  th'  belly  crawls; 
Means  less  of  mischief  than  thou  would  effect, 
Were  thou  at  helm  and  had  command  of  deck. 
Be  Heaven  prais'd  that  so  debased  a  crew, 
By  their  own  filth  remain  a  harmless  few : 
Ne'er  may  they  strengthen  but  like  vermin  die, 
Too  base  for  earth  too  gross  for  home  on  high. 


THE     CANNONADE.  107 

Come  forth  ye  Authors,  scourges  of  the  press ! 
That  we  may  hurl  a  jav'lin  at  thy  breast ; 
And  pierce  it  e'en  as  ye  with  your  base  pens 
A  nation's  morals,  with  seductive  tales ; 
The  merest  trash  an  impure  fancy  spawns, 
Which  human  heart  with  basest  passion  storms. 
Oh  shame,  ye  cut-throats  !  ye  vile  coward  knaves  I 
Who  poison  those  thy  nonsense  first  enslaves  ; 
Who  wait  in  ambush,  as  it  were,  to  seize, 
The  maiden  pure  to  blast  with  fell  disease ; 
To  sensualize  mankind,  break  it  down, 
And  cast  it  pauperfied  upon  the  town  : 
Thy  wild  imaginations  most  impure, 
Should  be  restricted  by  a  stringent  law  ; 
As  like  a  furious  beast  it  roves  the  State, 
Befouls  dear  life  and  discord's  pains  create. 


108  THE    CANNONADE. 

A  vaunt,  ye  wizzards  !  smiling  devils  black, 
To  Pluto's  realms  haste,  oh,  hasten  back  ; 
Cerb'rus  will  wag  his  tail, as  Charops  smile, 
Thy  mistress  will  be  charm'd  —  fair  Proserpine 
Charon  the  ferryman  will  pipe  a  song, 
As  o'er  the  Stygian  lake  ye  sweep  along  ; 
The  Gorgons,  Centaurs,  Furies,  and  Harpies, 
Briarius  bold  —  the  monster  of  Lerna, 
The  three-bodied  Gerrion,  and  Chimera, 
Will  all  be  pleas'd  to  take  ye  by  the  hand, 
Alike  to  thee  in  Pluto's  dread  command.1 


There  are  who  write  of  fiction's  airy  school, 

Whose  holy  genius  purest  fancy  rules  : 

'T  is  not  'gainst  these  we  raise  the  cry  of  shame, 


THE     CANNONADE.  109 

As  they  do  labor  for  a  worthy  fame  ; 
They  seek  to  mix  with  Reason's  flinty  soil, 
The  seeds  of  love  to  ease  its  weary  toil ; 
They  aim  imagination's  eye  to  raise, 
From  objects  low  to  those  of  lofty  praise  ; 
Their  work  we  cherish,  oft  to  them  we  flee, 
To  cheer  our  heart  at  gentle  nature's  plea ; 
With  them  we  tread  the  mazy  realms  of  myth, 
With  them  we  wonder  and  with  them  we  list ; 
As  they,  we  smile,  or  shed  the  diamond  tear, 
As  scenes  alternate  from  sweet  hope  to  fear ; 
Onward  we  go  by  their  weird  genius  led, 
T'  approve  the  living,  or  regret  the  dead. 
'T  is  fancy's  country,  bright  Hesperides  ! 
Whose  fruit  is  gold,  rich  perfumes  are  its  breeze  ; 

Ehchanted  here,  we  for  a  time  forget, 
10 


110  THE    CANNONADE. 

Each  sad  experience,  and  each  vain  regret ; 

Here  ravished  by  the  joy  of  genius'  dream, 

We  heaven  attain,  while  yet  an  earth-worm  mean. 

Live  fiction,  live,  while  true  to  virtue's  cause  1 

The  cold  heart  warm  and  bid  injustice  pause ; 

Round  rocky  reason  twine  affection's  wreath, 

To  social  life  a  vital  honor  breathe  ; 

Do  this  and  we  '11  defend  thee  far  and  near, 

The  trumpet  sound  for  gallant  knight  t'  appear : 

We  '11  love  thee  as  are  lov'd  the  fragrant  flowers, 

Which  soothe  our  passions,  light  our  darksome  hours ; 

And  many  many  sad  hours  come  to  shade, 

The  path  we  follow  to  the  senseless  grave. 


Oh,  what  is  poetry  in  this  our  land, 


THE     CANNONADE.  Ill 

By  muscle  sway'd,  the  daring  clever  man  ? 

Who  knows  not  when  the  labored  verse  is  done, 

What  what 's  its  sale,  the  carping  crowd  must  learn  ; 

Aright  to  judge  if 't  will  well  pay  to  know, 

A  bard  whose  verse  in  easy  couplets  flow ; 

If  his  melodious  turn  will  him  procure, 

A  well  kept  table  and  an  open  door ; 

If  his  young  muse  will  ever  live  to  shed, 

A  halo  round  a  friend's  aspiring  head : 

These  queries  are  which  pointedly  attest, 

The  sordid  passions  of  the  human  breast ; 

These  queries  are  the  noble  poet  scorns, 

As  on  truth's  wings  his  gifted  mind  is  borne, 

To  meditation's  realms  where  fancy  dreams, 

Beside  imagination's  crystal  streams, 

Where  storms  and  sunshine  stir  alike  the  soul, 


112  THE    CANNONADE. 

T'  express  the  life  o'  its  inner  beating  world. 

From  hence  true  poetry  on  tend'rest  feet, 

With  graceful  steps  fame's  gorgeous  temple  seek ; 

From  hence,  too,  come  that  most  disgusting  trash, 

That  boasting  coxcombs  write  up  at  a  dash. 

This  this  's  the  stuff  which  loads  the  bookstores' 

shelves, 

Of  public  taste  a  painful  story  tells  ; 
This  this  's  the  stuff  which  in  the  garb  of  rhyme, 
Unerring  points  sweet  poetry's  decline  I 
Poets  —  who  are  our  poets  ?    Gods,  we  need 
Such  men,  in  fair  and  noblest  song  to  weave, 
The  rough  material  of  our  giant  land, 
In  epic  grand  as  Homer,  Hellas'  strand. 
Poets  !  we  have  them  but  how  few  indite, 
Such  thoughts  as  breathe  and  words  of  startling 


THE    CANNONADE.  113 

might ; 

How  few  have  written  more  than  talent  wrought ; 
How  few  to  bed  by  genius  hath  been  brought. 
Hiawatha  indicates  a  gem-like  pen, 
Its  gifted  author  —  of  a  million  men  ; 
His  subtle  wit  and  purest  sweetest  diction, 
His  chastened  taste,  his  wild  and  nice  description ; 
His  abundant  lore  and  ample  gen'rous  heart, 
Conspire  to  place  him  foremost  in  his  art ! 
He  is  the  poet  of  the  land,  from  him 
Should  come  its  Epopee  —  so  too  its  Hymn : 
He  has  the  genius  —  him  let  do  the  work ; 
Let  his  sweet  muse  to  noblest  song  give  birth  ; 
We  wait  its  coming  and  predict  its  charm, 
The  country's  plaudits,  hearty,  long,  and  warm. 

10* 


114  THE     CANNONADE. 

We  Ve  poets  by  the  score  who  say  things  well ; 
On  merest  talent  cut  a  "lordly  swell ;" 
But  what  they  say  has  been  before  oft  writ, 
And  with  a  nicer,  far  more  brilliant  wit. 
We  would  ourself  had  not  so  many  sung, 
Select  a  theme  and  thro'  all  measures  run  ; 
But,  as  before  us,  on  our  library  shelf, 
Is  placed  the  fulness  of  poetic  wealth, 
We  shrink  abash'd  from  all  attempt  to  be, 
Enrolled  in  th;  ranks  of  sweetest  minstrelsy  : 
We  dare  to  rhyme,  presume  with  it  to  strike, 
Alike  the  king,  the  beggar,  and  the  knight ; 
Our  friends  we  love,  as  we  contemn  our  foes, 
And  warn  them  off  when  hard  upon  our  toes ; 
Our  rhyme  if  not  of  th;  "  stately  noble  kind," 
Is  of  the  fashion  —  it  is  with  the  wind  ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  115 

With  tli'  current  goes,  and  whatever  does  more, 
Is  apt  for  its  pains  to  be  push'd  ashore. 
We  know  that  microcosm  man  full  well ; 
lie  breaks  another's  while  he  rings  his  bell ; 
So,  too,  both  heart  and  head,  if  rais'd  too  high ; 
Since  no  sweet  brother  can  ivith  that  comply. 
Time  was  when  we  by  reckless  ardor  led, 
O'erlookM  the  living,  as  we  did  the  dead ; 
But  now  as  age  has  cool'd  the  heated  blood, 
And  backward  holds  the  passion's  angry  flood, 
We  feel  contented  with  the  crowd  to  pass, 
If  not  a  hero,  neither  lofty  ass ! 
We  like  true  poetry,  all  art  we  prize, 
But  mere  pretenders  heartily  despise ; 
They  swarm  —  poor  fellows  !  eager  after  fame, 
But  have  not  genius  to  conduct  the  game ; 


116  THE     CANNONADE. 

Forever  growling  —  mankind  wish  them  dead, 

« 

While  wit  assails  their  self-conceited  heads  ; 

They  live  as  wretches,  and  as  wretches  die, 

By  envy  prick'd  which  daily  hates  supply : 

Despise  1  and  shunned  by  almost  every  class, 

Their  days  in  sadness,  slowly,  darkly,  pass. 

The  twain,  poetaster  and  the  painter  daub, 

The  false  musician,  and  orator  swab  ; 

The  mouthing  Thespian  crack'd,  the  sculptor  botch, 

The  sham  inventor  and  all  such  hotch-potch  — 

We  hail  as  trash  !  impeding  oft  the  way, 

Of  merit  true — as  clouds  obscure  the  day. 

When  will  the  world  be  rid  of  such  mismakes, 

At  war  with  genius  which  it  imitates ! 

Affects  the  master  when  it  plays  the  fool, 

And  goes  to  business  'stead  of  going  to  school  I 


THE     CANNONADE.  117 

Oh,  when  will  drifting  lumber  soft  as  this, 

Be  floated  off,  or,  thrown  in  darksome  pits :  — 

We  have  no  patience  with  cracked  instruments, 

Or  rhymster  louts  who  loutish  verse  invents  ; 

We  wish  them  one  and  all  in  that  dark  sea, 

Which  Jason  sail'd  with  Peleon  timber  free, 

To  gain  the  Fleece  of  Gold,  Medea's  love, 

To  which  pure  passion  he  did  faithless  prove, 

And  took  Creusa  to  his  perjured  bed, 

When  Argo's  beam  fell  death-charg'd  on  his  head  I1 


In  this  our  country  where  the  press  is  free, 

There  is  no  end  to  belle  lettre  quackery. 

As  each  is  moved  with  some  imposing  thought, 


118  THE     CANNONADE. 

Instanter  they  to  sacred  pen  are  brought : 
A  hash  is  served  —  the  public  asked  to  eat ; 
And  cramm'd  are  all  with  toughest  kind  of  meat; 
Retain'd  an  instant  then  cast  forth  with  joy, 
Of  pity  full  for  this  quack  author-boy  ; 
Who  will  be  busy  in  a  sphere  beyond, 
His  narrow  scope  and  puny  mental  tone. 
Ah,  shame  on  th'  ignorance  that  aims  to  be, 
What  God  and  nature  views  opposingly : 
Ah,  shame  on  saps,  who,  in  a  sea  of  words, 
Hoist  heavy  sail  and  make  a  "  godless  splurge," 
Till  ^Eolus  enraged  unlocks  the  wind, 
When  shabby  wit  a  shabby  ending  finds. 
We  love  true  genius  and  if  books  it  makes, 
We  seek  to  know  to  what  these  books  relate ; 
If  they  contain  aught  of  a  knowledge  fair, 


THE    CANNONADE.  119 

We  hail  the  author,  bless' d  I  with  such  an  heir. 

The  unschool'd  mind  in  wisdom's  pious  laws, 

In  such  sound  books  will  ever  find  its  cause ; 

Just  scholarship  will  teach  no  worthless  theme, 

Nor  wed  the  mind  to  some  wild  futile  dream  ; 

With  vigorous  wit  it  grasps  where  facts  are  hid, 

And  drags  them  forth  whoe'er  the  act  forbid ; 

With  fearless  courage  it  assaults  all  lies, 

And  lying  writers  lustily  despise  ; 

By  whom  the  age  so  fearfully  is  cursed, 

Thro'  senseless  prose,  and  still  more  senseless  verse  ; 

By  whom  the  age  big  with  the  monster  —  crime  I 

Is  drugg'd  with  poison  of  the  vilest  kind  ; 

Oh,  brutal  writers  !  thus  to  truth  unfair, 

Eemorse  shall  yet  thy  blacken' d  hearts  uptear ; 

And  rnem'ry  yet  her  ocean's  depths  reveal, 


120  THE    CANNONADE. 

To  mad  thy  mind  with  that  in  vain  conceaPd ; 
To  brand  thee  foremost  in  the  list  of  knaves, 
Who  art  and  science  do  alike  invade  : 
Without  a  conscience  and  without  sweet  hope, 
Thy  chartless  souls  by  doubting  hell  are  broke  ; 
Rotten  and  drunken  they  infect  this  globe, 
With  notions  false  whence  tribulation  flows  ; 
And  man  with  man  by  them  in  combat  join'd, 
With  fiendish  hate,  of  each  does  life  despoil. 
This  is  thy  work,  ye  truthless  scribblers  bold, 
Whose  fearful  books  by  dealers  all  are  sold  j 
Because  't  is  said  for  them  there  is  demand,  — 
That  foul  damnation  may  engulf  the  land ! 
It  comes  —  it  comes  I  upon  our  precient  sight, 
Licentious  thought  doth  hurry  on  the  night  I 
It  comes — it  comes,  the  blood-stain' d  hand  is  there, 


THE    CANNONADE.  121 

Against  the  weeping  and  indignant  air  : 

No  tongue  can  parry,  no  stout  arm  can  save, 

This  noble  country  from  a  shameful  grave, 

(Dug  by  mad  teachers  in  the  quest  of  fame, 

Some  little  laurel  for  accursed  name), 

But  God's !  to  him  let  each  true  patriot  kneel, 

To  stay  the  doom  to  us  not  unrevealed. 


The  press  designed  to  scatter  broad  the  seed, 

Of  social  purity  of  check  hath  need  ; 

Aye,  check  1  we  care  not  who  may  at  us  howl, 

The  press  is  false  —  by  writers  most  befoul'd  I 

If  freedom  sweet  is  worth  a  freeman's  care, 

The  press  should  not  its  precious  strength  impair ; 

The  press  should  not  with  scurvy  falsehood  teem, 
11 


THE    CANNONADE. 

Because  it  pays  and  yields  good  harvesting ! 

Yet,  do  we  know  this  fearful  evil  lies, 

Without  the  reach  of  surest  remedies. 

Those  living  by  the  vending  of  untruth, 

Are  legion  I  with  spirits  fierce,  uncouth  I 

The  right  of  saying,  printing,  what  they  please, 

Would  still  be  held  whate'er  the  fell  disease, 

Induced  by  specious,  false,  and  gaudy  speech, 

By  which  sly  knaves  their  knavish  doctrines  teach  j 

Ye  scourges  1  oh,  press  on  ;  the  time  will  come, 

When  reckless  authorship  quite  all  undone, 

Shall  laws  obey  assuming  greater  power, 

That  truth  and  virtue  may  command  the  hour ; 

Then  shall  sweet  liberty  indeed  be  sweet, 

And  man  in  safety  walk  the  darkened  street. 

'T  is  not  so  now;  Plug-Uglies  have  the  rule, 


THE    CANNONADE.  123 

And  push  weak  justice  from  its  weaker  stool. 
An  "  Empire  Club  "  in  every  state  and  town, 
Takes  order  by  the  ears  and  knocks  it  down : 
Parades  its  muscle  thro'  the  trembling  land, 
With  snakish  eye  and  bowie-knife  in  hand ; 
These  loutish  cut-throats  think  our  noble  flag, 
"  A  right  good-looking  and  most  taking  rag ;M 
They  think  ;t  was  made  to  hover  o'er  the  free : 
So  "  they  are  bound  to  govern  and  to  spree." 
This  is  the  status  of  the  "  popular  vote," 
A  nasty,  sick'ning,  oh,  most  sad'ning  bloat ! 
Whence  comes  it,  whence,  this  rowdyistic  reign, 
Of  which  the  wise  with  earnest  speech  complain  ? 
Whence  the  audac'ty  that  so  oft  presumes, 
From  virtue's  hand  to  hold  the  rod  of  rule  ? 
Oh,  whence  ?  the  press,  the  press,  that  fearful  shaft, 


124  THE    CANNONADE. 

When  not  enlisted  in  dear  truth's  behalf: 
The  press,  the  press  !  oh,  may  it  guard  the  right, 
And  save  our  liberties  from  endless  night  I 
At  its  high  option  't  is  to  bless  mankind, 
Or,  once  again  in  chains  its  limbs  confine  ; 
The  nations  backward  hurl  to  th'  middle  age, 
When  right  was  might  and  iron  passion  raged  1 l 


To  us  who  liveth  in  this  flood  of  light, 

Which  marks  our  times  tho'  flippant  not  polite ; 

There  is  a  tender  love  for  this  advance, 

We  'd  not  subject  to  any  fell  mischance  ; 

We  'd  bolt  our  freedom  thro'  and  thro'  with  right, 

And  for  just  laws,  as  fiery  Mars  would  fight  I 

We  'd  put  all  rascals  on  the  Ixion  wheel, 


THE    CANNONADE.  125 

Revolving  ever  by  the  gates  of  Ml; 

We  'd  flood  the  country  with  industrious  bees, 

Whom  falsehood's  clans  should  never  cease  to  teaze  j 

We  ;d  leave  no  stone  unturn'd,  no  thought  unspoke, 

Which  could  defend  and  save  our  country's  hope  f 

For  heritage  great  to  each  of  us  hath  come, 

The  noblest  state  o'er  which  hath  roll'd  the  sun, 

We  would  protect  with  all  a  freeman's  care, 

To  bless  the  future  and  insure  it  fair. 

The  past  we  know  —  its  mirror  bids  us  pause, 

Ere  we  too  willingly  assail  our  laws  ; 

We  see  reflected  in  its  broad  extent, 

The  course  of  empires  with  their  grand  events ; 

We  see  the  scholar  quite  forgot  and  sad, 

Predict  the  ruin  falsehood  had  declared ; 

We  see  the  despot  and  his  crew  of  knaves, 
11* 


126  THE    CANNONADE. 

Defenceless  wretches  send  to  outraged  graves. 
Assyria,  Persia,  in  the  flowery  East, 
And  later  yet,  august  immortal  Greece  ; 
The  Jews,  the  Arabs,  Brama's  sacred  fanes, 
Are  blacken'd  o'er  by  error's  deep-dyed  stains ; 
Imperial  Rome,  too,  on  her  seven  hills, 
Reflects  the  sadness  of  her  thousand  ills ; 
And  Europe  fair,  where  AUila  the  Hun, 
Prom  the  far  North  besotted  Gaul  overrun ; 
Whose  savage  hordes  disdaining  woman's  tears, 
Wept  blood  all  reckless  of  a  woman's  fears, 
When  fell  in  death  their  bold  conqu'ring  chief, 
For  whom  eyes  sword-pierced  was  a  fitting  grief: 
In  coffins  wrought  of  silver,  iron,  gold, 
They  placed  his  body  while  they  moan'd  his  soul ; 
Then  on  a  bed  of  arms  and  precious  stones, 


THE    CANNONADE.  127 

They  laid  him  —  buried  with  the  diggers'  bones ; 
That  th'  secret  solemn  of  his  final  rest, 
Might  be  restricted  to  his  soldier's  breast ! 
E'en  thus  was  Alaric  the  Goth  entombed, 
Who  fill'd  Italia  with  a  savage  gloom : 
The  stream  Busento  from  its  course  was  led ; 
They  dug  a  trench  deep  in  the  channel's  bed ; 
The  chief  was  there  mid  gold  and  jewels  laid, 
And  there  was  butchered  the  attendant  slaves, 
That  one  whom  Goths  so  well  in  life  had  served, 
Might  in  the  earth  be  silent  unobserved. 


Oh,  page  of  hist'ry  what  sad  scenes  are  thine, 
From  earliest  statements  of  recorded  time ; 
How  laws  have  bent  and  broken  at  the  will, 


128  THE     CANNONADE. 

Of  faction  stolid  whom  base  traitors  drill ! 

How  worth  has  perish'd  while  disheart'ning  crime, 

Hath  every  curse  and  every  hate  combined. 

Would  through  the  plains  and  mountains  of  this  land, 

The  warning  past  was  known  to  every  man — l 

The  pit-falls  seen,  the  drear  destructive  reefs, 

With  their  heart-rending  and  too-constant  griefs  ; 

Oh,  might  they  in  the  eye  of  freedom  dwell, 

To  guard  its  steps  from  death's  most  doleful  knell. 

So  might  we  be  a  band  of  human  strength, 

Supreme  in  genius,  learning,  and  in  wealth, 

Not  all  the  nations  on  the  globe  combined, 

Could  stricken  down  or  influence  confine  I 

For  this  we  hope  —  may  pitying  Heaven  lend, 

Its  holy  aid  to  this  triumphant  end  I 

May  as  the  morning  be  the  evening  time, 


THE    CANNONADE.  129 

Of  this  our  country  in  its  rise,  decline,  — 
May  statesmen  navigate  the  ship  of  state, 
As  o'er  the  wave  she  bears  her  precious  freight ; 
May  quacks  and.  pirates  at  the  yard-arm  swing, 
And  birds  of  prey  be  driven  to  the  wing  ; 
Then  shall  her  decks  uncumber'd  by  disease, 
Reflect  warm  sun  and  hug  "the  spanking  breeze :" 
Onward  she  '11  go  till  wrinkled  age  shall  lay, 
Her  hoary  timbers  in  sweet  peace  away. 
Delightful  prospect !  Oh,  how  beats  the  heart, 
When  truth  seems  destined  to  its  wonted  part, 
When  hope  sits  cheerful  in  the  morning  sky, 
And  pictured  fancies  load  the  ravish'd  eye ; 
When  streams  of  rippling  music  melt  the  ear, 
And  lulls  to  sleep  each  earnest  wakeful  fear : 
Oh,  't  is  enchanting !  may  it  be  no  dream, 


130  THE    CANNONADE. 

But  fated  truth  unconquered  and  supreme  ; 
May  this  our  country  be  the  freeman's  boast, 
A  beacon  empire  to  the  enchain'd  hosts, 
That  o'er  the  world  in  sweating  bondage  lie, 
The  victims  cursed  of  hate  and  treachery  I 


We  Cannonade !  we  shoot  the  worthless  game, 
That  sweeps  the  fields,  destroys  the  tender  grain ; 
'T  is  not  a  pleasing,  or,  a  thankful  task, 
To  pelt  soft  folly,  or,  its  hopes  to  blast ; 
Nor  pleasant  is 't  to  whip  one's  dearest  child, 
Yet,  mothers  know  how  needful  'tis  the  while : 
The  lash,  the  lash,  tho'  painful  be  its  use, 
Demands  mild  exercise  without  abuse : 


THE    CANNONADE.  131 

So  we  in  humble  confidence  essay, 

To  crack  it  o'er  mean  error's  noisome  way  j 

To  whip  it  well,  to  break  its  spirit  down, 

And  chase  it  headlong  from  each  outraged  town. 

We  know  how  feeble  is  our  arm  to  wield, 

The  whip  of  wit ;  the  keen  and  warrior  steel  j 

Still  in  the  service  we  may  do  some  good, 

Tho;  slight  our  build,  our  earnest  manners  rude. 

To  scarify  each  failing  of  the  age, 

Would  be  to  bleed  both  sappy  and  the  sage  I 

And  yet,  disease  would  still  exist  to  tell, 

How  weak  is  lash  and  knife  tho'  handled  well. 

The  faults  which  mark  us  as  a  people  free, 

Exist  where'er  existeth  liberty  — 

That  boldness  and  impatience  of  restraint, 

That  proud  conception  of  a  freeman's  strength ; 


132  THE    CANNONADE. 

That  ardent  love  of  rapid  motion  wild, 
Observed  in  th'  active  ever-bounding  child ; 
E'en  as  the  youth  and  man,  who  scorn  to  creep, 
But  boom  along  with  reckless  dashing  sweep, 
At  West,  the  East,  the  North,  and  "  sunny  South," 
With  ears  wide  ope  and  with  extended  mouth, 
To  dainties  gather  as  they  come  along, 
With  shrewdest  whistle  and  a  gleeful  song. 
Whoe'er  has  traversed  thro'  our  broad  domain, 
The  mountains  skirted  and  the  verdant  plains, 
Hath  read,  thro1  all  conditions,  in  each  eye, 
The  conscious  pride  of  sweetest  liberty ; 
Hath  noted  oft  and  oft  how  great  the  least, 
Partaking  of  this  democratic  feast ; 
And  tho'  a  master,  yet,  hath  felt  as  man, 
Since  those  who  rule  are  servants  in  the  land!! 


THE     CANNONADE.  133 

Cannot  have  failed  to  weep  as  well  as  smile, 
At  freedom's  tricks  so  thoughtless  and  so  wild ; 
Still  in  the  sum  of  all  our  nation's  points, 
While  much  debases,  yet,  how  much  exalts  I 
We  've  passed  the  ocean  to  its  farthest  shores, 
Where  China  stretches  with  its  Pagan  hordes  ; 
Where  Luconia  'midst  th'  translucent  wave, 
A  vegetation  rich  with  pride  parades  ; 
Where  Mexic's  copper-colored  Peons  play 
Their  rials  off,  the  earnings  of  each  day  ; 
Where  California's  flat-faced  Indians  seem, 
The  dread  embodiment  of  some  dark  dream  ; 
Yet  we  've  n'er  witnessed  in  our  varied  rounds, 
The  solid  substance  of  a  Yankee's  bounds, 
As  in  his  home  he  sits  with  wife  and  child, 

Secure  beneath  the  stars  and  stripes  the  while : 
12 


134  THE    CANNONADE. 

None  calls  he  master  when  the  day's  work  's  done, 

With  rich  men  votes  tho'  daily  he  be  dunned  ; 

He  feels  he  's  free  !  and  if  his  freedom  brings, 

No  great  advantage  to  his  purse,  or  sins, 

He  's  free,  how  free  !  and  that  his  heart  doth  warm, 

With  that  he  meets  life's  sunshine  and  its  storm. 

He  has  the  right  to  think  as  he  may  please, 

To  live  a  miser,  or,  "  to  take  his  ease  ;" 

Just  as  the  humor  may  possess  the  brain, 

As  first  comes  wind  and  then  the  pelting  rain  ; 

As  first  brays  ass  and  then  loud  bleets  the  sheep, 

Bellows  the  cow  and  comes  the  owl's  wild  screech, 

So  doth  a  freeman  to  his  freedom  true, 

Indulge  his  fancy  with  least  care  of  you. 

If  he  ambia  spit  in  your  clean  face, 

Your  face  was  wrong  in  being  out  of  place  ; 


THE    CANNONADE.  135 

If  he  your  hat  should  take,  your  cane,  or  purse, 
You  should  to  these  things  give  attention  first ; 
The  freeman,  sir,  in  all  his  acts  is  right, 
And  if  one's  gouged  that  one  is  short  of  sight, 
Which  is  his  fault,  "  no  man  can  e'er  be  blamed, 
In  this  free  country  when  he  shoots  fair  game." 
"  Out  West,"  at  "  valliant  South,"  in  North,  and  East, 
We  find  that  freemen  make  a  freeman's  feast : 
We  don't  complain  —  't  is  liberty's  delight, 
To  spice  with  wrong  the  tasteless  dish  of  right ; 
And  whilst  this  land  is  free  —  we  must  expect, 
To  get  well  rubbed  and  eat  of  dirt  our  peck  : 
For  this  we  bargained  when  the  stars  and  stripes, 
Our  being  welcomed  from  the  womb's  brief  night. 
We  're  in  the  compact —  'bide  its  easy  terms, 
And  while  we  hit  it,  yet,  we  hold  it  firm  : 


136  THE     CANNONADE. 

We  love  our  land  —  its  men  of  each  degree, 
We  "  thank  our  stars  "  that  we  are  of  the  free  I 
And  while  we  ridicule  what  seems  most  base, 
The  goddess  Liberty  !  will  e'er  embrace. 
No  system  yet  was  perfect,  or,  was  pure, 
So  freedom  oft  is  vicious  on  our  shore  ; 
Yet,  in  a  throng  of  thirty  million  souls, 
What  rule  so  free,  has  held  such  wise  control  ? 
And  where  the  nation  to  direct  the  eye, 
In  such  defence  of  civil  liberty. 
0,  Father  kind  !  grant  that  with  all  our  faults, 
We  may  progress  and  vanquish  all  defaults ; 
Proceeding  from  an  unchecked  passion's  rage, 
Embracing  head-strong  youth  and  careful  age  : 
0,  grant  in  all  contentions  we  may  gain, 
A  firmer  faith  in  freedom's  lasting  reign ; 


THE     CANNONADE.  137 

Then  shall  arise  on  this  fair  teeming  globe, 
A  band  of  brothers  linked  in  common  woes, 
And  common  joys,  whose  hardy  chivalrous  soul, 
With  love  shall  conquer  this  distracted  whole. 


And  here  we  close  ;  kind  reader  say  is  not, 
Our  shooting  well  —  our  fire  both  cool  and  hot ; 
Have  we  not  aim'd  regardless  all  of  fear, 
To  pity  dumb  and  blind  to  suppliant  tear  ? 
Have  we  not  battled  for  dear  love  and  right, 
The  wrong  impaled  and  hurled  to  sable  night  ? 
Have  we  not  smote  each  phase  of  human  guilt, 
From  boasting  quack  to  padded  heartless  jilt  ? 
Then  since  our  task  is  ended  we  no  more, 

At  crime  and  criminals  our  hot  shot  pour ; 
12* 


138  THE     CANNONADE. 

But  leave  them  to  digest  the  iron  bestow'd, 
That  virtue's  seed  hereafter  may  be  sowed ; 
And  in  the  language  of  sweet  Milton  grand, 
These  lines  commend  to  each  and  ev'ry  man,  — 
"  He  that  hath  light  within  his  own  clear  breast, 
May  sit  in  th1  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day ; 
But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul  and  foul  thoughts, 
Benighted  walks  under  the  mid-day  sun ; 
Himself  is  his  own  dungeon." 

Ye  favored  men  of  this  new  western  world, 
(Which  the  intrepid  Genoese  unfurPd), 
Be  but  unfaithful  to  thy  awful  trust, 
May  God  wide  scatter  to  the  winds  thy  dust, 
Blot  out  from  life  each  atom  foul  of  thee, 
To  honor  dead  —  unworthy  to  be  free  I 


THE    CANNONADE.  189 

May  some  fierce  scourge  e'en  as  the  tattooed  Goths, 

Thy  land  invade  and  trample  with  their  hoofs  ; 

May  some  stern  Akbar  steeded  by  thy  sea, 

Give  other  faith  and  sterner  rule  to  thee  ! 

That  chief  of  Moslems,  who,  when  halting  'fore, 

The  broad  Atlantic  surging  to  the  shore, 

Swore  but  for  it  he  would  continue  on, 

To  bear  the  Crescent  and  oppose  "the  Son/'  — 

Put  to  the  sword  rebellion,  bond  and  free, 

Who  worshipped  Mdh'met  any  God  but  thee  I 

Thus  would  depart  in  deep  eternal  death, 

The  treasured  joys  which  Pilgrim  love  had  left; 

Thus  would  be  writ  that  man  had  proved  to  wan, 

Fair  freedom  false  —  unstable  of  command  ! 

Thus  would  be  writ  that  might  is  ever  right, 

And  virtue,  as  the  stars  that  robe  the  night ; 


140  THE    CANNONADE. 

A  garment  only  to  conceal  the  farm, 
Of  sterner  rule,  since  mildest  rule  had  gone  ; 
Thus  would  be  writ  in  signs  of  living  fire, 
Man's  soul  is  false  to  man's  supreme  desire! 
He  would  be  free,  yet,  with  a  tiger's  leap, 
Bounds  o'er  the  prec'pice  to  an  endless  deep, 
Where  crows  and  jackalls  on  his  body  feast, 
And  gnaw  the  heart  once  nolle  in  his  breast ! 
O,  Father  !  spare  to  this  our  native  land, 
So  sad  a  fate,  unworthy  "  godlike  man  !  " 


NOTES. 


(Voltaire  said  that  the  play  of  "  Hamlet "  seemed  to  him  the  work  of  a  drunken 
savage  •,  aud  Hume  said,  a  reasonable  propriety  of  thought  he  cannot  for  any 
time  uphold.  Byron  remarked  of  Shakspeare  that  he  was  an  imposter !  If  so 
God-like  an  intellect  —  powers  of  art  so  grand  as  to  give  us  a  reexpression  of 
human  nature  in  all  its  forms,  seeing  with  a  divine  eye  into  the  work  of  divinity 
—  was  thus  abused,  what  may  an  humble  rhymster  like  ouiself  expect  of  fair 
ness  from  those  critics  who  are  satisfied  with  nothing  that  does  not  emanate  from 
their  own  school  or  clique.] 

Page  16.  —  1.  We  would  here  be  understood  as  meaning  the  fortress  of  un 
truth.  We  trust  that  we  shall  be  excused  for  the  assumption  of  an  ability  to 
prevail  against  it.  We  would  rather  wish  to  be  understood  as  having  the  will 
to  do  so.  Untruth  is  too  strongly  fortified  to  be  easily  dislodged  or  captured. 

Page  18.  —  1.  We  feel  it  to  be  due  that  we  should  append  a  note  to  our  lines 
on  education.  It  is  a  very  important  subject ;  one  of  the  most  so  which  a  peo 
ple  have  to  consider.  We  are  among  those  who  do  not  believe  iu  over-stimulat 
ing  the  brain  of  youth,  or  exciting  it  too  much  in  manhood  ;  and  we  feel  if  there 
is  an  evil  apparent  it  is  that  of  too  much  teaching  5  —  too  much  thinking,  think 
ing,  thinking !  !  If  this  system  of  over-stimulus  continues,  it  will  knock  this 
country  and  its  institutions  out  of  sight,  before  we  have  time  to  save  them.  The 
bone  and  sinew  is  all  very  well  in  its  way  ;  but  if  the  mental  culture  of  a  country 
is  without  a  proper  check,  without  a  proper  balance  of  truth,  we  say  no  amount 
of  mere  good-natured  muscle  can  save  it :  it  must  die.  It  is  the  intellect,  after 
all,  that  leads  and  rules.  If  that  is  diseased,  or  befogged  ia  error,  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  good  government ! 

We  contend  that  the  actual  amount  of  real,  sound,  moral  truth,  as  the  result 
of  our  system  of  mental  stimulus,  is  entirely  disproportioned  to  the  time  and 
money  expended  in  the  production  of  this  stimulus  ;  nor  do  we  believe  that  it  is 
at  all  within  the  demand  necessary  to  self-government.  If  persons  do  not 


142  NOTES. 


grow  in  goodness  as  they  increase  in  knowledge,  their  knowlc  d^e  is  a  curse,  rather 
than  a  blessing  !  The  pursuit  of  absolute  truth  is  well  5  but  may  it  not  be  ex 
pecting  too  much  of  a  community  that  all  its  members  should  be  literary?  — 
should  be  "on  the  jump"  for  new  ideas  !  —  when  the  truth  is,  our  old  ideas, 
many  of  them,  are  only  about  half  worked  up,  and  but  imperfectly  compre 
hended.  When  every  means  is  employed  to  stimulate  the  ordinary  brain  to 
get  ideas  whether  fitted  to  their  station  and  capacities  or  not,  we  say,  in  our 
poor  judgment,  a  fatal  error  is  being  committed.  The  path  of  knowledge  should 
be  made  easy  to  none.  Learning  is  a  sacred  trust !  and  they  only,  as  a  rule, 
know  its  value,  and  make  a  good  use  of  it,  who  have  been  at  considerable  trouble 
to  acquire  it.  The  idea  that  in  order  to  preserve  our  institutions  we  must  make 
scholars  of  all  our  citisens,  —  deluge  the  land  with  books  and  libraries  !  —  is  an 
old  woman's  whim,  and  though  coming  from  her  heart  is  more  hearty  than  pro- 
fround.  The  preservation  of  our  institutions  is  based  upon  the  consciences 
and  bellies  of  our  people.  Let  us  strive  to  keep  the  one  tolerably  clear,  and 
the  other  quite  full,  and  we  may  last  until  old  aga  ;  but  inflate  and  overload  the 
brain  with  ideas  of  a  soaring  nature,  —  too  much  finery  !  —  and  no  government 
will  be  suitable  to  that  state  of  things  but  a  —  throne  !  When  cooks,  chamber 
maids  and  butlers,  bootblacks  and  scavengers,  get  to  be  pretty  good  scholars,  — 
get  to  know  more  of  a  useless  character  to  them  than  their  employers  can  under 
stand,  —  we  should  be  glad  to  know  what  sort  of  subordination  will  then  exist. 
"What  subordination  is  there  even  now  of  the  inferior  to  the  superior  classes  ? 
We  may  be  a  republic,  but  no  amount  of  republicanism  or  democracy  can  destroy 
the  fact,  that  in  the  constitution  of  society  under  any  form  of  government,  there 
will  be  gradations  of  talent,  from  one  to  ten,  and  that  classes  will  obtain.  No 
body  wants  a  literary  cook  or  bootblack,  but  some  one  to  serve  whose  mind  will 
be  directed  to  the  duties  in  hand,  and  who  will  be  content  to  serve.  If  God  had 
formed  the  brain  for  this  universal  literary  and  scientific  movement  of  the  day, 
we  should  acquiesce  in  its  wisdom  ;  but  he  has  done  no  such  thing.  The  brain 
is  of  all  sorts  and  sizes  ;  and  not  more  than  one  in  a  thousand,  perhaps,  is  adapted 
to  more  than  the  rudiments  of  an  education  or  culture. 

Page  25.  —  1.  In  our  reference  here  to  the  scholar,  we  would  be  understood 
as  entertaining  the  conviction  that  no  one  knows  better  than  the  earnest  seeker 
and  digger  after  truth,  the  great  danger  of  being  plunged  into  the  pitfalls  of 
error,  and  the  liability  which  a  severely  logical  mind  is  subjected  to  of  a  disbe 
lief  in  the  pretentions  of  Christ,  as  set  forth  by  the  records. 

We  have  every  sympathy  with  the  infidel,  because  we  know  his  argument, 
viewed  in  a  strictly  human  and  logical  sense,  is  strong  and  unanswerable  5  but 
it  is  not  in  this  sense  that  we  are  to  deal  with  Christianity.  We  are  not  to  re 
gard  it  as  a  question  to  be  tried  in  court,  but  as  a  matter  purely  of  a  spiritual 
Character,  and  to  be  studied  in  that  sense  Every  one  knows  what  his  or  her 


NOTES.  143 


spiritual  need  is,  and  if  there  is  any  scheme  of  religion  which  so  well  responds  to 
this  need,  we  should  be  glad  to  know  what  it  is,  and  where  to  be  found. 

Although  the  Christian  scheme  cannot  be  proved  to  a  mathematical  certainty, 
it  is  a  wonderful  invention,  and  so  perfectly  simple  and  yet  incomprehensible 
that  we  think  it  must  be  from  God,  upon  the  evidence  that  it  is  anti-human  j  not 
at  all  in  conformity  with  man,  or  his  known  impostures. 


Page  25.  — 1. 


.power 
.scholar. 


We  have  in  this  instance  and  in  several  others  admitted  imperfect  rhyme  ; 
and  for  the  reason  that  it  was  not  convenient  for  us  to  fix  upon  a  phraseology 
that  should  comply  with  the  strict  rule  ;  although  in  a  work  of  greater  preten 
sion  we  should  be  more  particular.  We  have  also  omitted  the  comma  in  many 
places,  where  the  sense  of  the  verse  did  not  require  its  use  in  order  to  be  readily 
comprehended  by  the  reader.  Our  object  in  taking  this  liberty  was  to  avoid 
cutting  up  the  lines  unnecessarily .  Milton  says  "Khyme  is  no  necessary  ad 
junct  or  true  ornament  of  a  poem,  or  good  verse,  in  lengthy  works  especially, 
but  the  invention  of  a  barbarous  age."  Both  Homer  in  Greek  and  Virgil  in 
Latin  were  without  rhyme.  The  neglect  of  rhyme,  then,  is  little  to  be  taken  for 
a  defect,  though  it  may  seem  so,  perhaps,  to  vulgar  readers. 


Page  36.  —  1.  We  may  be  thought  to  entertain  the  idea  that  man  as  a  finite 
being  is  altogether  unworthy  of  confidence  and  love.  We  desire  not  to  be  so 
understood.  The  wrongs  which  he  has  committed  have  been  "inhuman}" 
there  has  never  been  an  age  in  the  world's  eventful  history,  however,  without 
its  Sir  Philip  Sidneys,  its  Fenelons,  its  Addisons,  its  Franklins,  its  Clarksons, 
its  Madam  Guyon?,  its  Grace  Darlings  ;  in  fact  its  heroes  and  herories  of  every 
name  and  nature  •,  but  the  monsters  of  vice  have  been  too  powerful  for  truth  ; 
and  hence  we  have  a  world  whose  annals,  not  wisely  and  dispassionately  con 
sidered,  would  weaken,  if  not  break  down,  all  faith  in  human  nature  and  all  trust 
in  God ! 


Page  49.  —  1.  We  do  not  wish  to  be  misunderstood  in  declaring  that  Christ 
"  left  life  and  peace  eternal  with  his  name  ;"  and  we  here  would  remark,  that  we 
refer  to  man  as  an  immortal  being,  and  not  as  a  mere  object  of  human  govern 
ment  and  laws.  In  the  name  of  Christ  the  devil  has  desolated  the  earth  with 
strife  ;  but  the  true  Christian  in  every  age  has  enjoyed  a  confident  hope  in  tho 
Immortality  of  his  soul,  and  "  that  peace  which  passes  all  understanding." 


144  NOTES. 


Page  51.  We  have  on  this  page  referred  to  our  country's  name  as  being  yet 
untarnished,  and  on  page  31  we  allude  to  it  as  cradled  in  the  basest  lie.  Thia 
may  to  some  appear  to  be  an  irreconcilable  contradiction  ;  but  a  fair  criticism 
will  find  no  inharmony. 

Page  65.  —  1.  We  contend  that  there  is  nothing  innate  in  man  whatever,  ex 
cept  his  capacity  for  knowledge  ;  that  circumstances  of  education  and  personal 
experience  form  his  character  either  for  good  or  evil.  We  believe  that  the  most 
vicious  men  who  have  ever  lived  could  have  been  trained  to  be  the  best. 

When  we  say  in  a  previous  note  that  not  more  than  one  brain  in  a  thousand  is 
adapted  to  more  than  the  rudiments  of  an  education,  it  may  appear  to  contradict 
our  opinion  that  the  most  vicious  men  could  have  been  trained  to  be  the  best ; 
but  the  contradiction  is  only  apparent ;  there  is  none  in  fact.  Because  a  per 
son's  capacity  for  attaining  knowledge  is  limited  it  does  not  follow  that  that  per 
son  will  be  vicious,  if  he  or'she  has  not  been  led  to  misunderstand  themselves. 
The  great  aim  of  all  education  should  be  to  teach  souls  what  they  can  best  do, 
and  to  entertain  no  hopes  of  advancement  to  honor  which  their  own  abilities 
cannot  sustain. 

Page  73.  —  1.  Exception  may  be  taken  to  our  application  of  the  term  knight 
to  Mr.  Everett.  If  in  this  we  have  greatly  outraged  any  one's  "delicate  sense 
of  truth,"  hurt  their  feelings,  we  crave  to  be  forgiven.  If  Mr.  Everett  has  never 
been  identified  with  the  military  of  the  country,  —  never  a  swaggering,  ostenta 
tious  soldier,  —  he  has,  in  our  judgment,  the  courage  for  any  position  demanding 
the  full  powers  of  a  man  !  Therefore  we  have  dubbed  him  knight. 


Page  78.  —  1.  There  is  a  wind  in  Araby  called  Sarsar,  the  wind  of  death, 
which  no  sooner  touches  a  man  than  he  dies. 

We  would  not  be  understood  as  advocating  the  doctrine  of  intervention  on  the 
part  of  Congress  to  prevent  the  spread  of  this  evil.  We  think  Congress  should 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  but  that  it  should  be  left  with  the  Territories 
to  manage.  The  men  who  go  into  these  Territories  are  fully  competent  to  judge 
of  their  own  interests.  We  simply  mean  to  condemn  the  doctrine  of  the  South 
that  we  of  the  North  should  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  institution.  This,  we  con 
tend,  ia  an  outrageous  demand,  —  at  once  an  insult  and  barefaced  effrontery 
which  is  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  nations. 

Page  113 — 1.  Perhaps  we  shall  be  thought  to  be  unnecessarily  severe  on 
those  persons  who  are  before  the  country  as  poets  and  poetesses.  But  any  one 
who  knows  what,  in  fact,  poetry  is,  —  who  is  familiar  with  the  English,  French, 
aud  Italian  classics,  —  cannot  fail  to  sustain  us  in  our  position.  To  be  a  true 


NOTES.  145 


poet,  in  these  later  times,  when  almost  every  combination  of  conceivable  thought 
has  been  put  into  type,  and  this,  too,  in  the  most  masterly  manner,  is  to  be  of  a 
more  exalted  genius  than  even  Homer  and  Menander  themselves. 


Page  104.  —  1.  The  ambition  for  literary  fame  !  Says  Pope  (and  who 
more  competent  than  he  to  advise)  "I  believe  if  any  one  early  in  life  should  con 
template  the  dangerous  fate  of  authors,  he  would  scarce  be  of  their  number  on 
any  consideration.  The  life  of  a  wit  is  a  warfare  upon  earth  5  and  to  pretend 
to  serve  the  learned  world  in  any  way,  one  must  have  the  constancy  of  a  mar- 
tyr,  and  a  resolution  to  suffer  for  its  sake."  All  this  is  so  true  in  literary  his 
tory  that  he  who  affects  to  suspect  the  sincerity  of  Pope's  declaration  may  flatter 
his  sagacity,  but  will  do  no  credit  to  his  knowledge.  If  a  person  has  an  income 
which  is  sufficient  for  his  needs  as  a  gentleman ;  for  the  gratification  of  elegant 
tastes,  the  pursuit  of  literature  (provided  he  can  publish  his  own  works,  or  aid 
in  this  handsomely)  is  well ;  but  under  any  other  circumstances  it  is  not  well ; 
and  where  one  makes  authorship  a  profession  by  which  to  get  his  bread,  it  is  the 
most  dangerous  of  all  avocations  both  to  health  of  body  and  mind.  He  who 
writes  for  a  living  is  constantly  putting  to  paper  what  he  is  disgusted  with  j  but 
as  it  sells  he  must  furnish  it.  The  soul  becomes  offended  at  the  necessities  of 
the  body  which  compells  its  prostitution ;  and  the  result  is  such  a  disturbed  con 
dition  of  the  conscience  as  makes  of  that  writer's  bosom  a  hell  upon  earth.  He 
looks  abroad  into  society,  and  he  sees  good  fat  bodies  and  cheerful  faces,  who 
obtain  a  comfortable  support  by  the  vulgarism  of  commerce,  —  are  courted  and 
respected,  —  while  he  works  like  a  dog  against  a  conscience  which  heats  his 
brain  with  indignation,  envy,  and  remorse.  He  is  proud  !  —  desires  deference, 
but  gets  it  not,  only  in  the  formal  way  of  stereotyped  affable  insincerity.  He 
knows  human  nature  too  well  to  be  humbugged  by  it ;  and  from  his  habit  of  con 
stant  reflection  on  the  passions  of  his  species  he  not  unfrequently  comes  to  hate 
mankind  with  an  intensity  of  will  that  can  be  defined  only  by  white  heat. 

An  author  who  lives  by  his  pen,  unless  quite  successful,  is  a  most  miserable 
being.  His  confidence  in  humanity  is  wrecked,  and  hate  is  the  most  active  ele 
ment  of  his  soul ;  and  even  if  successful  he  finds  himself  so  susceptible  to  im 
pressions  that  his  soul  is  in  a  constant  state  of  volcanic  action. 

We  think  no  one  should  enter  on  authorship  who  can  be  tolerable  happy  out 
of  it.  But  few  men  have  anything  to  say  that  has  not  been  better  said  before  ; 
and  theirs  is  the  only  fame  worth  undergoing  the  drudgery  and  solemnity  of  the 
study  to  achieve.  Those  on  the  plain  of  authorship  have  little  love  and  less  re 
spect  for  each  other,  however  social  they  may  be.  Envy  and  jealousy  is  the 
poison  which  annihilates  all  sincerity  and  true  confidence.  And  as  to  the  world 
outside  of  authorship,  —  the  heaps  of  flesh  and  bones,  that  go  through  their 
heartless,  daily  routine  of  business,  —  why  it  is  well  understood  that  they  have 

13 


146  NOTES. 


about  as  little  consideration  for  the  claims  of  literary  genius  as  a  snapping  cat 
does,  or  a  savage  bull-terrier,  for  a  prowling  rat. 

How  comparatively  few  in  literature  have  it  in  their  power  to  live  as  they 
could  wish.  Drudgery,  the  perfidy  of  friends,  and  the  imbittered  hate  of  ene 
mies,  ill-paid,  trying  labor,  and  many  other  trials  make  up  for  them  a  sum  of 
wretchedness  that  blights  all  joy,  and  converts  what  were  once  noble  dispositions 
into  ingenious  traps  for  the  unwary. 

Thus  the  pursuit  of  literature  as  a  profession  has  made  thousands  base,  who, 
out  of  it,  would  have  preserved  their  integrity.  Society  is  overrun  with  persons 
who,  being  smart  enough  "  to  earn  their  living  "  in  some  pursuit  which  requires 
no  particular  exercise  of  the  intellect  further  than  to  think  over  the  same  stereo 
typed  matter  from  day  to  day,  —  because  "earning  their  living"  (that's  the 
great  idea  with  them ;  and  it  certainly  is  a  virtuous  one),  they  are  therefore 
qualified  to  contradict,  both  right  and  left,  anybody  who  may  chance  come  in 
their  way,  and  to  annoy  by  their  insufferable  twaddle  those  who  have  the  least 
possible  taste  for  it.  They  abuse  the  intellectual  —  artists,  persons  of  literary 
habits  —  whom  they  denounce  as  worthless,  because  they  participate  in  none  of 
the  feelings  of  these,  —  are  strangers  to  their  motives,  their  views,  and  their  de 
lights.  We  know  no  more  sad  fate  than  for  genius  to  be  compelled  such  associa 
tions,  from  the  pressure  of  circumstances. 

We  remember,  some  time  since,  meeting  a  gifted  artist  — a  painter  — on 
School  Street,  late  in  the  night,  whom  we  well  knew.  He  happened  to  be  drunk, 
and  was  bolstered  up  against  the  side  of  King's  Chapel.  We  said  to  him,  "Joe, 
why  are  you  here  ? "  "  My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  looking  at  us  with  his  dark 
eyes,  and  an  expression  of  countenance  we  shall  never  forget,  "  I  am  here  be 
cause  it  is  the  only  bed  I  can  pay  for."  "  But  you  are  drunk,  Joe,"  we  replied ; 
"  how  happened  that  7 "  "  Dined  out,  to-day,  my  dear  fellow,  and  have  not  been 
well  since,"  he  returned.  "  Come,"  we  rejoined,  "  get  up,  and  go  to  your  room." 
"0,  but  my  dear  sir,  I  have  been  there  once,  and  was  driven  away.  There 's  a 
week's  rent  due,  and  I  can't  pay.  My  good  lady  of  the  house  says  she  wishes 
all  painters  were  in  h — 1,  as  they  never  have  any  money  when  it  is  most  want 
ed."  He  stopped  for  a  moment ;  then  muttered,  "  A  very  delightful  world,  this 
—  very  /"  We  took  Joe  in  charge,  and  going  to  the  house  where  he  roomed, 
rang  for  the  landlady,  who  on  making  her  appearance  slammed  the  door  in  our 
faces.  "  There,"  says  Joe,  "  you  see  what  a  friend  she  is.  It  is  just  such  a 
Blam  as  that,  sir,  which  has  time  and  time  again  sent  me  to  rum.  It 's  no  use 
to  try  to  get  in  there.  Come,  the  moon  is  bright  and  cheerful ;  —  let  us  lodge 
with  her."  We  succeeded,  after  rapping  pretty  hard  for  some  time,  in  bringing 
the  woman  back  again,  who,  after  a  good  deal  of  hard  talk,  consented  to  take 
Joe  in  for  the  night,  if  we  would  pay  what  he  owed  her,  —  a  week's  board  1 
This  we  cheerfully  did,  and  our  friend  Joe  was  quartered  for  the  night. 

This  landlady  was  by  no  means  an  ill-bred  woman.    She  was  smart  and  Intel- 


NOTES.  147 


ligent ;  yet  she  had  the  heart  to  say  "  she  wished  all  geniuses  were  in  the 
House  of  Correction,  as  they  never  pay  their  bills  when  they  can  help  it.  Here 
is  this  painter  ;  I  hare  had  him,  now,  for  a  year ;  and  I  '11  swear  to  you  he  never 
pays  when  he  ought  to.  He 's  always  talking  about  faces :  0,  he  's  going  to  get 
BO  much  for  this  face,  and  that  face  ;  still  the  money  due  me  is  never  on  hand. 
Now,  sir,  I  do  declare  to  you,  if  I  had  a  son  whom  I  suspected  of  having  any 
genius  for  paint  of  any  kind,  or  clay,  I  'd  take  him  by  the  heels,  and  knock  these 
abominable  notions  out  of  him,  by  battering  his  head  against  a  stone  wall  until 
I  had  well  sifted  it  of  all  art.  Art,  sir  !  —  skunks  !  "  We  left  this  woman  wil 
lingly,  after  seeing  Joe  well  bestowed,  with  sorrowful  reflections  on  genius  and 
its  persecutions.  Joe  had  paid  her,  from  time  to  time,  all  he  owed,  but  not  regu 
larly  ;  he  being  situated  as  artists  in  general,  unable  to  command  steady  work. 
But  our  landlady  was  one  of  those  delectable  formations  of  combined  mind  and 
matter  which  it  is  impossible  to  impress  with  anything  like  a  rational  idea  of 
any  one's  trials  but  her  own,  and  still  more  difficult  is  it  to  inspire  with  a  re 
spect  for  genius,  and  a  tender  care  of  it,  when  from  the  embarrassments  of  its 
position  it  fails  to  meet  its  obligations,  and  from  its  good  genial  nature  becomes 
the  victim  of  its  own  generous  impulses  and  warm-heartedness. 

We  have  seen  many  such,  in  our  time,  in  every  quarter  of  the  world  where  we 
have  sojourned.  Whilst  in  California,  we  witnessed  very  many  instances  of  the 
brutality  of  mere  money-getters  towards  those  whom  God  had  endowed  with  the 
precience  and  glory  of  genius ! ! 

Page  120.  —  1.  Such  an  amount  of  mere  twaddle  and  sentiment,  —  such  a 
Bum  of  absolute  vulgarity,  as  finds  its  way  into  type,  and  what  is  still  more  ex 
traordinary,  remunerates  publication  !  is  a  pitiful  comment  on  the  taste  of  our 
people,  and  indicates  a  depth  of  corruption  of  the  most  alarming  nature.  Of 
course  there  is  no  remedy  for  this  evil  but  the  good  sense  and  moral  elevation 
of  our  citizens. 

Pag«  124.  —  1.  We  may  appear  to  be  at  variance  here  with  the  idea  we  have 
advanced  on  a  previous  page,  namely,  that  it  is  not  necessary  all  should  know 
of  "  Rome  and  its  decline."  A  knowledge  of  general  history  is  most  needed  by 
all  our  citizens,  but  not  a  particular  knowledge,  —  all  its  facts  and  horrors. 

O"  We  ask  no  one  to  accept  us  as  a  poet.  We  have  too  high  an  appreciation 
of  the  dignity  of  poesy  to  lay  any  claim  to  its  honors  ;  and  we  trust  this  dis 
claimer  will  exempt  us  from  "  a  literary  cudgeling  for  our  pretensions,"  as  was 
the  case  when  we  published  "  Our  Modern  Athens  •,  or  Who  is  First  ? "  That 
satire  was  an  unpretentious  affair,  and  as  we  stated,  was  offered  as  loose  verse, 
or  doggerel,  and  was  published  not  with  a  view  to  literary  fame,  but  for  an  en- 
tirely  different  object,  the  pursuit  of  which  was  glory  and  compensation  enough 


148  NOTES. 


for  us.  That  object  was  to  assail  the  idea  so  prevalent  in  this  community,  viz., 
that  "  money  makes  the  man  ;  the  want  of  it  the  fellow ! "  We  envy  no  persons 
their  success  ;  but  we  do  most  emphatically  condemn  in  the  successful  that  want 
of  generous  bearing  towards  the  unfortunate  which  proves  them  to  be  not  Chris 
tians,  but  pagans  !  This  manifestation  of  mind  has  ever  been  the  mark  of  the 
satirist ;  and  though  a  constant  stream  of  ridicule  has  been  played  at  it,  from 
time  immemorial,  the  breed  has  not  been  in  the  least  improved.  Nor  do  we 
think  if  God  with  his  visible  finger  should  write  upon  the  blue  sky  his  command, 
"  Be  honest,  be  just  and  magnanimous,"  that  any  more  heed  would  be  paid  to 
the  Almighty's  behest  than  though  it  were  but  the  whistling  of  the  wind,  or  a 
clap  of  distant  thunder. 

We  would  say  to  the  person  who  gave  us  a  "  literary  cudgeling  "  for  publishing 
"  Our  Modern  Athens  ;  or,  Who  is  First  ? "  that  he  is  about  as  competent  to  the 
business  of  a  critic  as  would  be  a  spavined  and  broken-winded  mule  for  the  race 
course  !  Sheridan,  beset  by  a  pack  of  dirty,  scribbling  curs,  who  were  ever 
barking  at  his  heels,  disposed  of  them  as  follows  :  "  As  for  the  little,  puny  crit 
ics  who  scatter  their  peevish  strictures  in  private  circles,  and  scribble  at  every 
author  who  has  the  eminence  of  being  unconnected  with  them>a.s  they  are  usu 
ally  spleen-swollen,  from  a  vain  idea  of  increasiug  their  consequence,  there  will 
always  be  found  a  petulence  and  illiberality  iu  their  remarks  which  should  place 
them  as  far  beneath  the  notice  of  a  gentleman  as  their  original  dullness 
had  sunk  them  from  the  level  of  the  most  unsuccessful  author .'/" 

Here  is  a  glass  of  sherry  which  if  our  gentleman  /  of  the  "  Express  "  will  Bip 
at  his  leisure,  may  do  him  some  good.  The  more  dignified  and  politic  may  think 
"  we  have  done  wrong  to  notice  this  fellow."  To  them  we  would  say,  that  we 
should  not  have  done  so  were  it  not  that  he  occupies  the  position  which  an  hon 
est  man  and  gentleman  should  fill,  and  we  desired  the  fact  should  have  circula 
tion.  But  for  this  reason  we  should  have  preserved  silence.  His  abuse  of  "  Our 
Modern  Athens  5  or  Who  ia  First  ?"  greatly  aided  its  sale.  Persons  thought 
that  a  work  so  savagely  abused  must  have  more  than  common  merit. 

But  enough  of  this  fellow  and  his  dirty  pen.  We  shall  take  no  further  notice 
of  him,  unless  he  gives  us  an  opportunity  to  bring  him  into  court,  and  do  him 
tenderly  up  in  a  sweet-scented  declaration.  We  would  most  considerately  re 
mark,  however,  in  conclusion,  for  his  especial  benefit,  that  a  very  high  authority 
has  said,  "  He  who  calls  his  brother  a.  fool  is  in  danger  of  hell  fire  ;"  and  that  if 
he  would  avoid  being  roasted  alive  he  will  see  to  it  in  the  future,  that  his  language 
is  more  in  keeping  with  that  high  standard  of  literature  he  would  have  the  pat 
rons  of  his  paper  believe  it  is  his  desire  to  promote  and  establish.  We  honor  his 
good  intentions,  but  regret  he  does  not  appear  to  possess  the  requisite  character 
or  ability  to  carry  them  fully  and  fairly  out  j  that  he  appears  to  be  more  of  a 
toady,  to  those  of  established  and  safe  reputations,  than  a  fair,  conscientious 
critic. 


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